Make a Wish, Break a Heart
by sjm95x
Summary: AU! Harry makes a wish to go back in time, to fix things, but he's not very specific. So, what? Well: he ends up in the Marauder era, inside of James Potter's body, in the middle of all this teenage drama. Throw in Voldemort and a Time Magus. BrokenHarry
1. One Wish, Seven Words

_Disclaimer_: Harry Potter and any such related characters/symbols/ideas/etc. are in direct correlation to J.K. Rowling as of the year 2010/2011.

_Warnings:_ Rated _T_ for mild language and sexual themes. Nothing mature: PG-13. Warning: plausible character death(s).

_Full Category_: Semi-Romance/Adventure/Humor/Minor Drama/Minor Angst

_Summary_: Harry sacrifices himself, only to find out that Voldemort has more than seven hocruxes. He decides to make a wish and go back in time. It doesn't work out so well. He ends up in James Potter's body in an alternate reality. He's told that he has to keep up the image that he is in fact still James Potter. And that includes flirting with Lily Evans, playing random pranks on the school, and other Marauder stuff. Harry Potter never did have a normal life before. Why should he now? And what happens when he actually falls for Lily Evans? Note: under construction. Revisions are taking place.

* * *

One Wish, Seven Words

Harry glared up at Voldemort. He stared into the evil man's hollow, cold, and bitter red eyes. He sighed, gulped, and closed his own eyes. He was ready to die.

He could hear the Death Eaters jeering their lord to kill the chosen one. He could hear the wind silently weeping for the fated one. He could hear the trees swaying in a regular motion, bowing to Harry's selfless sacrifice. He _had_ to die.

He could smell the bitter sweetness of the damp leaves and tress around him. He could taste the blood on his lips, salty and sour.

Yet, he could see nothing. He needn't see anything. He _had_ to die.

He was a martyr. Was he the only martyr? Maybe.

Harry waited. There was eerie silence. What was taking so long?

He squinted and took a peek, a peek at death.

Voldemort smirked and raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear — he saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone (_Deathly Hallows,_Page 704_)._

A scream, a laugh, a cry: these are emotions embedded within the human mind. They are part of Human Nature. But was he still human then? He didn't know. So he remained silent. Silence is the key to many situations.

He breathed in the silence. His eyes remained shut. Was this how it felt like to be dead? He was numb. And then he heard a voice: a gentle one, full of remorse and regret.

"You can get up now." Harry opened his eyes and was quick to grasp his surroundings. He was at King's Cross. The train station was abandoned. Directly stationed in front of him, was the Hogwarts Express. But the train was black, not the glistening red he remembered it to be.

And not five feet from him lay an armchair. Sitting on top, merrily sucking on some sort of candy, was none other than Albus Percival Wulfric Dumbledore. His eyes twinkled down at Harry.

"S-sir?" Harry rasped out. He gasped. He could still speak? Harry frowned and examined his own hands cautiously, afraid that they might fall off to the ground at any second. They shone brightly under the vibrant moonlight. He looked up at his zenith. Clouds, endless clouds, like those in a dream. They continued to roll across the gloomy and dark sky, in a somewhat soothing manner. There was too much silence. But it was nice to have silence once in a while. He looked back at the headmaster, claimed to be dead. And then, he asked the only logical question: "Am I dead?"

Dumbledore stopped sucking on his lemon drop and sighed, gazing back up at the clouds. Harry followed his gaze, utterly befuddled. He looked back at Dumbledore. The headmaster stroked his long white beard. The elder man fumbled a bit with the tight knots buried deep within it. And then, the old man spoke: "Time, Mr. Potter. Time."

Harry looked back at his former headmaster. "Um . . . what?" He clenched his teeth. Honestly, couldn't Dumbledore just speak like a normal person? Harry hated riddles.

As if reading Harry's mind, the old man smiled. "Time, Mr. Potter, is a great thing. It has never been manipulated by ordinary wizards before. But you, Harry, are not ordinary."

Harry scoffed. Of course! Harry was _extra_ordinary . . . great! Just what he needed to make his day! "Okay, enough with the riddles, sir. Am I or am I not dead?" Harry ran a hand through his hair. He rubbed his sore neck.

Dumbledore smiled again. "Well, it depends. You see, you're a ho—"

Harry rolled his eyes in frustration and cut his professor off. "Hocrux." Dumbledore gaped and then smiled at the young man, shaking his head in awe. "_I_ figured it out. It's how Voldemort and I had a connection in the first place. But go on, am I dead? Is the hocrux gone? Can Voldemort be killed once and for all?"

Dumbledore's demeanor changed. "I'm afraid not." Harry made fists with his hands and banged them against the ground in frustration.

"How can he not be mortal? After all the things we did?" Harry growled. "I thought you said that once all the hocruxes were destroyed, he'd be mortal again."

"Ah yes. But you see, the problem is that he made more than seven hocruxes." Harry's jaw dropped. Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "He eventually figured out that his hocruxes were being hunted down and destroyed. So he made a dangerous decision and made a few more just in case. Voldemort is still immortal."

"B-but . . . how?" Harry closed his eyes. "Why? Why does this always happen to me!" Harry finally slumped onto the cold concrete platform. After a few problematic seconds, he looked up at Dumbledore. "What do you suppose we do?"

Dumbledore looked down at the poor boy. He had suffered so much, in so little time. "You can make a decision to die," he gestured towards the open door on the front of the Hogwarts Express, "or you can choose to go back and try to kill him once and for all."

"But how the heck am I supposed to find the other hocruxes now? We have no clues, no more manpower, no time—"

Dumbledore smiled broadly. "Oh, but we do." Harry banged his head against the ground repeatedly for a few seconds. Albus chuckled at the young man's antics. "You have a power that he knows not."

Harry looked up. He opened his mouth, took a guess, and asked weakly, "Time?"

Dumbledore smiled lit up his entire face. "Perhaps, but not precisely." Harry grumbled something incoherent, making Albus let out a hearty chuckle. "You see, you can make a wish."

Everything stopped. Harry scowled, then frowned, then gaped, then closed his mouth, then gaped once more. Finally, he decided upon an action and clenched his teeth. "_What_?"

Make a wish? That sounded so magical and cliché.

"Fate has given you a free wish. Well, not directly you, but rather, it is a blessing upon us from your ancestors. The Peverell family was known to be one of the most magically-enhanced families in the Wizarding World. You are a descendent of the Peverells. The Peverells were given three wishes long ago, much before the time of Merlin.

"They used two of them up. One of them being them wanting a way to cheat death. Hence, you have the Deathly Hallows. Another wish was also used, but I am not sure exactly how. But, one wish remains unused."

Harry groaned. Why did life have to be so difficult? "According to what I've comprehended, you're saying that I can wish for whatever I want and . . . poof? Just like that? It'll work."

Dumbledore nodded. "You are essentially correct, but there are rules to it."

Harry frowned. "Rules? What kind of wish is that?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Well, rules are always necessary. Are they not?"

Harry nodded dumbly and gruffly added, "Guess so." He stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked up. "What are the rules?"

"Ah. Rule number one: you must begin the wish by saying, 'I want to . . .' and finish it off with a complete thought."

Harry scoffed. "I want to kill Voldemort and eliminate him from mere existence and—"

Albus held up his hand to silence him. "Rule number two: the wish must revolve around the person making the wish. In other words, you cannot make a wish that may affect another person in any shape or form. So, you cannot formerly say you wish to destroy Voldemort. It just wouldn't work."

Harry scoffed. "Well, how about I want to become the most powerful wizard in the world?"

Albus sighed. "Rule number three: the wish is limited to less than or exactly seven words."

Harry shrieked. "_What_? What kind of bloody wish is that? What's the point if the wish is so short?"

Albus sighed. "Please let me finish. Rule number four: the wish must be broad, yet specific. Not too narrow and not too broad."

Harry snickered and momentarily forgot the seriousness of the situation. "So, hypothetically speaking, I can't wish to bag some witches?"

Albus frowned but allowed a small twinkle to appear in his mesmerizing blue eyes. "No, because the word 'some' can be interpreted as twenty, two, or perhaps even a hundred."

"How about I want to bag some _dashing_ witches?"

Albus chuckled. "Well, I wouldn't exactly waste my wish there. In Fate's eyes, a pretty witch might turn out to be your worst nightmare. So, opinionated wishes are not recommended. It is suggested that you do not wish for things that are open to too much interpretation."

"Umm . . . how about I want to be stronger than Voldemort?"

Albus sighed. "That wouldn't exactly help much. You see, although you might be stronger than Voldemort, you won't be able to find the hocruxes and destroy his immortality. You would just be able to duel him. And no matter how many times you were to win a duel with Tom Riddle, he would never truly die. The problem is recurring."

Harry bit his lip. "So what do _you_ suggest I do?"

Dumbledore smiled politely and whispered, "Time, Mr. Potter. Time." Bowing his head, he got up from the arm chair and began to weave his way back to the Hogwart's Express.

"Wait!" Harry called out. Albus turned around. The old man's smile welled with tears of mirth. He gestured for Harry to continue. "How do I make the wish?"

Albus sniffed. "If I were you, I would go to the Heart of Hogwarts. That's where most of the magic within Hogwarts lies." Harry frowned but nodded eventually. "And please Harry . . . can you forgive an old man for his poor manipulations?" He wiped away another tear.

Surprised, Harry shook his head. Sure Albus Dumbledore had been a major pain in the arse, but he was always there for Harry. He was a silent guardian. And Harry was thankful for that. Without him, Harry would have gone astray a long while ago. Despite his mistakes, Dumbles was a good man.

"Of course sir. It was for the Greater Good." He grinned and went over to embrace his mentor in a grandfatherly hug. "I learned to live and forget." He smiled back at his mentor and saluted him, stepping back a few paces. And with that, Harry's eyes rolled up. The young man fell backwards with an audible _thud_ and passed out.

Albus Dumbledore smiled. "I wish that I had learned to do that too, at your age. Good luck."

OoOoO

_Harry's POV_

So there I was, in some sort of limbo. And there he was, Albus Dumbledore, being a creepy barmy old man as usual, even in his death.

So I gave the man a hug and saluted him. It felt like the right thing to do at the time, you know what I'm getting at? And I forgave him because . . . well, he's a good man and . . . people who eat candies all day and never catch diabetes are _wicked_ cool. I just hope the barmy old man could have perhaps taught me how to make my eyes twinkle like his. It's pretty awesome how he used to do that. Anyways . . . where was I? Oh yeah. . . .

And then I passed out and woke up in the Forbidden Forest with all these Death Eaters staring at me. It was bloody scary, actually. Luckily, I had my nappy on.

Just kidding! I don't wear nappies anymore.

OoOoO

Voldemort struggled to ease the pain in his forehead. He involuntarily rubbed his scaly skin in circles, soothing out the tension that had built up in the last twenty-two seconds. "Is the boy dead?"

Nobody dared approach the boy. What if he was alive? Voldemort snarled. "You are all scrotty cowards!" The Death Eaters flinched as a group. "You there." He pointed to Narcissa Malfoy. "Check up on the boy. _Now_!"

Narcissa shivered and quietly made her way towards the boy's slumped body. She slowly bent down and checked for a pulse. She gasped. She quickly jumped back and cried out. Everyone's attention turned to her as she uttered, "He's alive!"

"Freakin' bitch!" Harry hissed to himself. Excuse the poor lad's language. He was in quite dilemma, was he not?

There was immediate pandemonium. Harry opened his eyes to see what was going on. He saw the Dark Lord snarl and raise his wand. Relying on pure instincts, Harry jumped up and ran for it. He sprinted towards the castle and a trail of curses followed him. Thinking quickly, he grabbed the invisibility cloak stuffed in his pocket and wrapped it around himself. This way, nobody would notice him leave the forest or enter Hogwarts.

"Get him!" Lord Voldemort, the Muggle-hating hypocrite, cried out loud.

Harry looked over his shoulder and saw Voldemort himself charging after him, gliding through the air at an incredible speed. He would catch up eventually. So Harry did the only thing imaginable. He pulled out a few of the handy pranking gadgets—like the Peruvian Darkness powder, some extendable ears, and a few Hey-Look-It's-A-Distraction's, courtesy of Fred and George—and threw them in Voldemort's general direction.

And it worked!

Voldemort let out an inhumane screech and fell backwards. This bought the escapee some time. Time. Oh, what a wonderful thing Time is.

Harry began to wheeze as he reached the castle front doors. He barged right in, ignoring the screams of terror that followed, and began running up the complicated moving staircase.

The poor lad struggled as he climbed the stairs at a steady pace. Unfortunately, it was times like these that made students wish Hogwarts had a magical lift. Only Merlin knows how the young man managed his way up. Well, anyway: back to the fun part.

Harry Potter quickly shoved the invisibility cloak into his pocket and stopped in front of the blank wall. This was it: the Room of Requirement.

At once, the young man began to pace back and forth. He ignored the growling stomach, the contracting chest, the sounds of destruction. He paced back and forth.

_I need to see the Heart of Hogwarts. I need to see the Heart of Hogwarts. I need to see the Heart of Hogwarts._

Harry looked back up and smiled. A gargantuan, elaborate gold-engraved door appeared. He grasped the emerald-studded door handle, and pulled it open, and gaped.

It was empty. It was an empty classroom with a lot of Rune engravings here and there. The room buzzed with magic. But that doesn't make sense, right?

Harry heard rumbling. The castle began to shake violently. Harry rushed into the room and closed it shut behind him. Hogwarts was under attack. Voldemort was probably breaching the wards at this very moment. Harry took a deep breath and began to chant his wish.

"I want to go back in time. I want to go back in time. I want to go back in time." Nothing happened. There was a prolonged silence.

After nothing happened for a few minutes, the boy began to genuinely panic. The castle began to rock back and forth with each consecutive second. Absolutely nothing happened! What if the wish had been a bogus? What if that dream with Dumbledore had all been an illusion and a setup?

The boy was about to break down on the cold stone floor crying, thinking, _I'm done for_. But hey, magic has its ways of doing stuff.

There was silence—then, some more _dramatic_ silence—and finally a _boom_! Or rather, a loud _bang_! Or maybe, a stunning _whoosh_! Eh, don't mind the narrator. Writers aren't meant to enact sound effects.

And then, the boy passed out. A divinely white force embraced the boy into a hug. The boy disappeared, forever. The world that he had left behind began to ripple and tear itself apart. Goodbye, year nineteen ninety seven. Hel-lo, Marauder Era!


	2. Stripes Evolve into Polkadots

Stripes Evolve into Polka-dots

Lily looked up into the sky. It was Saturday. She was sitting on the Gryffindor side of the Quidditch stands, cheering for her team. It was nice weather. A bit cloudy, but the sun was out and there was no chance of rain or wind anytime soon. It was perfect weather for a Quidditch match.

She watched as fourteen witches and wizards soared around the field on high-quality brooms, thirteen that she could tolerate. But, there was one particular player she despised very much: James Bloody Potter.

"And Chaser Potter scores for almost the fiftieth time this match, making the score 340 to 100. Gryffindor is in the lead! Let's hope the Ravens can catch up soon. At the rate at which dear Potter is going, Gryffindor will win even if they lose the snitch!" The announcer, who was evidently a girl, sighed in awe.

Lily watched as the crowd went wild with enthusiasm—mostly the witches—as Potter pumped his fists in the air, giving off the silly grin as usual. And then, he locked eyes with Lily blew her a kiss. She scowled in reply. A girl behind her began to hyperventilate, thinking Potter had blown _her_ the kiss. Lily rolled her eyes. Potter was nothing to hyperventilate over. He was simply an arrogant prick, especially today more than ever.

**~Full Flash~**

"Hey Lily Petal, wanna go out with me next Sa–_tur_–day?" James Potter grinned crookedly and gently grabbed Lily Evan's wrist. He didn't know he was violating her personal space in any way.

Lily recoiled backwards. "Get off me, you nitwit! No, I will _not_ go out with you!" She started making her way back into the castle, hoping the inseparable four troublemakers wouldn't bother her furthermore. She sighed silently. She was honestly tired, and Potter wasn't making her day any better. "I knew it was a bad idea to go out for a walk around the lake," she grumbled.

"Aw, come on. What if I say please?" Lily shook her head, not bothering to turn around. "Pretty please, with a lily petal on top?" James ran in front of her and got onto his knees, as if proposing to her. She cringed at the thought of Potter actually proposing to her.

"No, Potter. For goodness sake, are you daft or what? Don't you understand—doesn't your puny mind comprehend what I ever say? Or do you just stare and drool?"

"Actually . . ." James started to say something, and Lily could already predict his train of thought.

"I hate you!" She shrieked with fury. "Get away from me. Okay?"

James sighed dramatically. "I guess it's time for Plan Whatchumacallit." He ran a hand through his mop of black hair and gave Lily a charming smile. For some reason, Lily huffed but decided to stay and watch the act. It was quite amusing, the things he did for her. And maybe, he might actually entertain her and get her into a better mood. Just maybe.

Sirius Black came up to James and gave him a loud thump on the back, handing him a ukulele. "Good luck, mate." He whispered. James nodded gravely.

_Where did he get that ukulele from?_ Lily frowned.

Potter paused. The seconds perpetuated, the wind blew lightly. Lily began to sorry that she had somehow broken the poor bloke in some way.

Suddenly, Potter put on the widest grin and began to sing. "Row-ses are red." He strummed dramatically. "Vio-lets are purpl- I mean blu-ue." He strummed again, but bit his tongue and cringed at his mistake. He continued nonetheless. "Lil-lies are so pretty!" He strummed an octave higher. Then, he rushed up towards Lily and skidded across the courtyard on his knees. "And so are you!" He got up, rubbed his knees, and took a deep bow. Once the show was done, the other three boys began to whistle and applaud his 'wonderful' song.

"That was brilliant, simply charming James!" Sirius exclaimed, clapping loudly to make it seem as if James had a large audience.

"Definitely, mate! Good job!" Peter added in his bit by stomping on the ground, very loudly.

"He should go professional," Remus whispered to Peter in a very loud, hushed voice. Some of the bystanders laughed wholeheartedly.

James smiled, revealing his white teeth. To him, this mission was successful. The small crowd of students that had formed around the two eagerly awaited Lily's witty comeback. James was sure he had won her heart. Why wouldn't his act have charmed her? James was simply a _charmer_. He had just needed to crank up his charming abilities to overdrive in order to win Lily's heart. That was all.

James turned back to Lily. "Would you like to escort me to Hogsmeade next weekend?" James waited for his big moment. He was positive this time: she would accept! Yet, the frowns on her face told a different story.

"No." James's smile faded ever-so-slowly. Lily crossed her arms. "And how much did you pay them to compliment you?" She was clearly annoyed by his rubbish antics. "Good day, Potter." Some of the students around them began to shuffle around. Just as she turned around, the redhead saw desperation build up in the boy's eyes.

"W-wait!" James gulped, his Adam's apple jerking subtly. "Did I ever tell you . . . ?" James scratched his fuzzy head and looked back at Sirius. He mouthed, "Now what?" Sirius shrugged. James sighed and whispered, "Bullocks." James looked back up at the (in his opinion) stunning redhead, boring his hazel-blue eyes into hers. And then, his face lit up.

"Did I ever tell you that your eyes are as . . . startlingly green as a . . . frog?" He raised his eyebrows and gave her an uneasy smile. But smiles wouldn't get him far with his love life, especially if he wanted Lily in his love life.

"What?" Lily rolled her eyes. "I look like a frog?"

James shifted under her gaze. That sounded an inaccurate description of what he had meant to say. "I meant to say . . . a turtle?" James's insides sagged. Blunt failure. He could already predict the future.

Lily growled. "Really, Potter?"

James smiled sheepishly. "It sounded _way_ better inside my head. Honestly, you have to believe me." He pleaded and gave her one of his charming pouts. One of those pouts that had all the witches drooling, but Lily was an exception. She was different, and James liked that about her. But how different was she?

She glared at him and said the three words he didn't want to hear: "I loathe you!"

James gulped and licked his lips. Yeah . . . she was _really _different from the other witches at Hogwarts. No matter what he did, Lily always threw him repugnant looks. Why couldn't she understand that he found her unique; that he found her special; that he was falling for her?

James somberly sighed. "Um . . . what if I said that this would be my last day in this world? Would you be so kind as to go out with me and make my last day on Earth memorable?" Maybe he could guilt her into taking him out on a date. And then, when he showed her his romantic side, she might—James stopped and saw the mean look on the girl's face. He gulped.

Lily arched her thin eyebrows and scowled. "I could care less if you died." And with that, she stomped away.

A few of the girls that had been watching began to whisper furiously and pointed in Lily's direction. "She's such a bitch!" The girl huffed and made inappropriate finger signs at her back.

"She should just give the poor bloke a chance!" Another whispered.

"Aw, he's so sweet!" An older sixth year Ravenclaw clutched her heart and gave James a look of pity. "Why can't my boyfriend be like him?" Some of the other girls agreed.

"The show is over people, go home." Remus got up and scattered the crowd of students. He gave James an 'I-Told-You-So-But-You-Wouldn't-Listen-Because-You're-A-Mentally-Challenged-Wizard' look and shrugged. Remus had tried to warn James.

Sirius Black went over to his best mate and took back the ukulele. "C'mon, mate. Cheer up! Snag yourself some other dame. They're all over you, anyways!"

James shook his head stubbornly. "She's the only one for me."

James dropped onto the courtyard underneath, his back against the ground. He needed a better plan to snag his dame. And sometimes, she honestly hurt his feelings.

Lily was snapped out of her unhealthy thoughts when one of her best friends sitting right next to her began jumping up and down along with the rest of the Gryffindors in the stands.

"Oh my gosh!" Catherine squealed and pulled Lily to her feet.

Lily looked around and realized that the Gryffindors had won. Well, that was a big surprise, wasn't it? Lily huffed. Honestly, she despised flying as a whole. Maybe not more than she loathed Potter, but up to a major extent.

"Gryffindor wins the match! Go Jam—I mean Gryffindor!" The announcer gave a dreamy sigh. Lily grumbled. She loathed James Potter with all her heart.

And then it happened.

Two buldgers and a quaffle rammed into James Potter's sides. He let out a groan as one of the buldgers banged against his head repeatedly for several rounds. There were screams, mostly from the girls sitting in the stadium, as the crowd watched the boy get battered up in the cloud. Finally, he was knocked unconscious and fell off his broom.

The boy plummeted towards the ground. His fellow teammates tried to catch him in midair. But they weren't fast enough. He whizzed downwards. Dumbledore quickly got up from the teacher's stands, raised his wand, and shot a spell in hopes of slowing down his fall. But the spell missed.

And so, the boy fell with a loud thump. There was silence. In the blink of an eye, the headmaster rushed out into the stadium ground and knelt next to the young man on the ground. He pointed his wand to his throat and spoke with utmost seriousness: "Everybody, please return to your dormitories." He also seemed a tad curious.

Naturally, nobody moved. Fear was moist in the air. Clouds began to roll across the sky, the sun shimmered away. As if on cue, it began to rain. Gusts of winds began to churn around the students, in particular James Potter. Silence. Students wordlessly stared at the boy out on the field. Silence.

"James!" Sirius Black snapped back to reality and began to push his way through the silent crowd. Two worried troublemakers followed Black's lead. They didn't bother apologizing for pushing anyone in the way.

Just as the boys placed their feet on the grassy field, Professor McGonagall blocked their path. She ushered them to go back to their dorms in a tone that could only be described as urgent. "Return to your dorms. You have been instructed to do so by the headmaster." The old woman looked a bit worried too.

Sirius gave McGonagall a daring look. "James is our friend!"

But it was no use. McGonagall was strict and quickly melted Sirius's attitude with a glare of her own. "Do as you are told, Mr. Black, or I shall give you another week's worth of detention."

Momentarily defeated, Sirius dragged Peter and Remus to the back of the crowd. They watched the headmaster carry James Potter's limp body back to the castle, probably towards the infirmary. The three best friends vowed to visit their friend at the stroke of midnight.

"You think he's . . . alive?" Peter asked in a frail voice.

Sirius smacked the back of Peter's head. "Of course he's alright!" But from the inside, Sirius had his doubts. He just didn't have the courage to voice them. What kind of Gryffindor was he? Sirius frowned. He should have defied McGonagall and rushed towards his friend anyway! His frown scurried off stage. There was that tingling doubt inside his head. Sirius sighed. Maybe it was best to not know everything. "He'll be alright." Who was he really convincing, his friends or himself?

Remus stayed silent. From what he had seen, James should have been dead. The way that his body had flapped against the headmaster's arms when he was being carried inside was an indication of that, something that nobody else had realized. However, perhaps James's magic had managed to save him. Remus shrugged and followed the others, hoping for the best. After all, he could only wish for the best. There was no stopper to death. At least, he'd never heard of one.

As the three troublemakers retreated towards the castle, the crowd began to buzz about. Reality finally struck the crowd, and they began to whisper frantically. The fellow Gryffindors began to spreads rumors melodramatically, and the females began to mourn hysterically. The stands slowly emptied away, leaving behind a lone figure in the stands. Rain drizzled and flattened her hair against her pale face. Lily felt the people around her begin to move. But she stayed put.

Lily was frozen on the spot. Her heart was hammering against her chest. Guilt palpably poured out in the form of sweat. She looked at the bloodied patch of grass where James Potter had fallen and felt a new emotion, something she had never felt before. Was it affection? Was it care? Was it worry? The young teenage witch bit her lip.

James gulped and licked his lips. "Um . . . what if I said that this would be my last day in this world? Would you be so kind as to go out with me and make my last day on Earth memorable?"

Lily arched her thin eyebrows and scowled. "I could care less if you died."

_. . . if you died._

_. . . care less . . ._

_. . . if you died._

Lily's lip trembled. Had he known that he would die? Was he really dead? She put her hands to her face and let her eyes moisten. What had she done? She felt cruel. This was all her fault, wasn't it? Lily flipped through her emotions. Yet, she still didn't _like_ the boy. He wasn't the likable type. So then, why was she feeling guilty for the stubborn boy? She loathed him, right?

And then it hit her—traveling at one hundred meters per second and accelerating massively at eight meters per second per second, a thought penetrated her thick skull.

She actually cared for the boy, but only mildly. There was nothing more to it. After all, he _was_ a fellow classmate. And he _had _gotten injured. Any human being would have sympathized with the injured boy, were he _alive_.

Lily shivered. Of course James was still alive. She shivered again and pulled herself into a tight hug. She looked back to where James had landed. She could make out large blots of red layered on top of the green grass.

_Be careful what you wish for_, she reminded herself. Lily climbed down from the bleachers and followed the other students as they made their solemn retreat to the castle. The storm behind her raged on. The storm wouldn't be ending anytime soon. It had just started.

OoOoO

_Harry's POV_

The last thing I saw—before being enveloped into darkness—was a white Patronus-like pull me into a motherly hug. For the moment, I remember feeling relieved. The force with which it gripped me was comforting and gentle, much like one of Hermione's bone-crushing hugs . . . I miss those. It's almost been three years since I last . . . well never mind that.

Anyway, as I was saying, a force pulled me into a comforting state of being. But right afterwards, the force changed its intensity. All of sudden, I felt the life being squeezed out of me. It might seem metaphorical, but I'm being very honest here—the life was extracted out of me in a _very_ literal manner. My insides twisted seven-hundred-and-twenty degrees, and my soul was brutally ripped away from my lower spine. Don't ask how I knew where my soul was attached to.

For a long period of time, I lost connection with my human-self. I tried to grasp onto something—anything. But I couldn't move any part of myself; I was stuck in freefall, inside of some sort of vacuum. There was no air to breathe in; no light for my eyes to welcome; nothing. Had I still body parts, I would have begun to hyperventilate. Just as the feeling of emptiness crept into and fully invaded my chest, I began to drift backwards. Or did I begin to fall down? Hmm . . . I think I fell downwards.

So, I fell downwards. Down, farther and farther into some sort of endless vortex. I opened my eyes—souls don't exactly have eyes, do they?—and looked around my falling form. I confirmed my previous theory that there was no end to the hollow pit.

I waited. I couldn't feel anything. Everything inside of me was numbed. It was odd, a weird feeling. I felt nauseous, sick to the mind, sick of the darkness hovering about. I searched my surroundings for an escape from the horrid abyss.

My pleas were ultimately heard. After what seemed a lifetime, I finally fell—or rather, I landed. I crashed onto something soft with a piercing thud. It was bloody painful though. One would argue the impact onto a soft surface is to be nothing more than a bounce onto the couch; after my experience, I would readily argue otherwise. Even though the surface felt soft, I landed with extreme force. I'm sure I broke my lower body.

Speaking of parts of the body, let's spark up some intuition: how was it that I was inside of my body again? Hadn't my soul been ripped from my body moments before falling into the abyss? Contradictory, isn't it? Well, while I lay stoic on the site of impact, I assumed for the moment that I was back in my body, but this would later prove to be quite an inaccurate conclusion. Forgive my conscience for having let that thought slip away from reasoning. I had more important business matters to attend to. According to my secretary, I currently needed to shut my eyes and hiss with violent fervor; I needed to open my mouth and try to emit yelps of pain; I had to make inhumane facial expressions to demonstrate the joy I felt while I lay helplessly on the landing site. I was much too busy to think rationally, you see.

So in other words, I felt pain, nothing less than pain and agony. I tried to cry out for help, but I couldn't find my voice. I seemed to have lost it in the abyss. I would have to go back there to retrieve if I ever got the chance. My head was throbbing with vertigo; my chest was swelling up for reasons unknown but probably fatal; my legs were trying to abandon ship and leave me limbless. I was just in no condition to stay awake or alive. My magic was definitely depleting to critical values. I was bound to pass out, I just knew I would. Well, guess what? I _did _pass out. Unlike last time, however, I was morally ready to accept defeat.

The next time I awoke, I found myself lying on top of a white bed. All around me was white; I was inside a white room. That was amusing, as I had spent a lifetime falling into an abyss covered in total darkness. The white and the lights in the room were a refreshing contrast to the mind. At first, I thought I was actually on my "next great adventure." But when I looked around, I realized that the white room looked somewhat familiar. Definitely different from anything I'd seen before; foreign yet familiar. But why did it seem so familiar? Slowly, I made out the walls in the room and recognized the type of stone floor. I stepped down with bare feet and closed my eyes. The floor was hard, cold, humming with magic. I opened my eyes and frowned. Was this . . . the Hogwarts infirmary?

I blinked and let out a deep breath. It was, wasn't it? And better yet, I was _alive_. There was no other explanation. My mind backtracked to before my supposed death (before the falling into the abyss and breaking of all parts of the lower body). I recalled talking to Dumbledore about time, running towards Hogwarts at thundering speeds, and making a wish with a serious look of doubt on my face. The more I concentrated, the more I frowned. The more I frowned, the more I remembered. The more I remembered, the wider my grin grew. Imagine the convoluted look on my face.

Suddenly, my face lit up. The wish had worked. My jocund mood sagged. Again, I was making assumptions without any proof. I looked around and surveyed the room. This was a different infirmary from what I had seen.

I spotted a calendar on the opposite side of the long room. I squinted my eyes but was unable to read the date. I frowned. Was this 1991? I hadn't specified how far back in time I had wanted to go. So, I was probably back to when I had first entered Hogwarts. _That makes sense_, I nodded dumbly, although it did not really make any sense at all. Yet, I continued to imagine the possibilities of landing back into my first year. I looked down at my arms. I stared at my puny and soft hands. I was young again!Again, I assumed on observations from a very bias perspective.

_Am I in my first year at Hogwarts?_ I wondered with awe. Six years would give me more than enough time to train. I needed all the training I could get. By the end, I would surely become strong enough to survive real duels with Voldemort. And why wait to kill him? I would train early and save tens of lives! My eyes bulged out. Sirius would be free and could live with me! Freedom!

I began planning Voldemort's demise without any hesitation, which seemed pretty ironic since that's the type of things villains do. I made a mental outline of the procedure I needed to follow. It wasn't very long though, there only being three simple steps: destroy Hocruxes, duel Voldemort, win. Perfect! This time around, I would make sure to destroy all of the hocruxes. There would be no doubts this time. Not this time. Voldemort wouldn't win.

I heard a knock. My head swung to the left. It was then that I realized I was the only one in the infirmary and that the infirmary was locked. The door knob wobbled, probably as the person(s) outside pried it open with an advanced version of the _Alomahora _spell. I expected it to be Dumbledore. My assumptions stopped being valid right then.

Imagine what happened to my already disarranged brain as a younger-than-usual Albus Dumbledore, accompanied by an even older man, walked in and greeted me. When I say "younger-than-usual," I mean _it_: he had specks of black in his beard, Merlin damn it! I gaped and rubbed my eyes very eloquently. When I opened them again, the twain of men was still there. Oh the irony of life. Damn you Fate!

OoOoO

Harry Potter squinted his eyes. He felt rejuvenated and at peace for once. He contemplated as to where he was at the moment. Ten minutes passed, but the boy was in state of serenity and did not recognize the ticking of the hands on the clock. He perked his ears after the doorknob to his left rattled.

There were footsteps coming from outside. Then, the sound of old men arguing about something. Finally, there was a resounding knock. Before Harry could give the outsiders permission to enter, two men clad in long robes entered.

Albus Dumbledore stepped into the infirmary and was pleased to see James Potter awake. He had begun to worry that the young man was not going to live. Little did he know of how James Potter was long dead and that another had taken his place.

"Mr. Potter, you are finally awake." Dumbledore said. Harry slowly nodded his head. "Meet Mister Flamel." Dumbledore gestured towards the older man, who in turn examined Harry with small, beady eyes.

"Hello sir." Harry held out his hand. Nicholas Flamel cautiously took it.

"You gave us quite a scare there, Mister Potter." The headmaster chuckled.

"Yes, but I'm okay now." Harry looked around the room. Exactly where was he? Why was the ceiling . . . striped gold and aquamarine? The stripes hadn't been there the last time he was at the Hogwarts' infirmary. Was this really Hogwart's infirmary?

OoOoO

_Harry's POV_

I sat there—on the hard medical bed—and held a civilized conversation with the headmaster about Quidditch. Wicked, isn't it? I had always assumed the headmaster was a sort of prankster at his age. He explained some of the Muggle physics behind how people fall off their broom. I had absolutely no idea why he was talking about falling from hundreds of feet off the ground, but would later realize why. For the moment being, I nodded to all his questions and pretended to be part of the intimate conversation. Then, the alchemist introduced himself as an Unspeakable, Nicholas Flamel.

I continued to nod my head to all their dull questions. But I wasn't really paying attention. I mean, at the time, I was getting more and more confused. Had my wish changed the past? I didn't remember meeting Nicholas Flamel the last time I saved the Sorcerer's Stone from Quirrell. So then, why was he present here? Did he want to thank me for my efforts in saving the Sorcerer's stone? I didn't think he would have.

So, I picked up my lion courage and asked about the Stone. I didn't expect such a violent reaction to follow. Dumbledore never gets worked over anything. Well, they _both_ went berserk on me, Mister Flamel more so than Dumbledore.

OoOoO

"So . . . um . . . what happened to the Sorcerer's Stone?" Harry asked. Mr. Flamel jerked his head towards Harry. He gawked.

"Why are you asking about my stone, dear boy?" The alchemist rasped out.

Albus Dumbledore looked at Harry warily. "I don't remember you taking such a great ambition in alchemy."

"Sirs . . . I was the one who saved it from Voldemort's clutches . . . remember?" Harry said. "Quirrell was possessed and wanted to steal it, right? You were the one who put it on the third floor forbidden corridor."

"James, are you feeling alright?" Dumbledore frowned.

"James?" Harry gaped. "Sir, my name is not _James_." Had Dumbledore finally gone off the hook?

Albus peered at Harry from above his tiny spectacles. "Not James, my dear boy? I believe you have caught amnesia. . . ." And then as an afterthought, he asked, "Do you still love Lily Evans?"

"Oh my Merlin! You think I'm James Potter, right?" Harry asked, disbelief written all over his face. The two older men nodded. "Well, I'm not him. I'm Harry James Potter."

"I don't remember James having an older brother, much less a twin, or even a cousin." Albus looked more confused than ever.

"No, no." Harry shook his head. "I'm _Harry_ James Potter and am the son of James Potter." At this statement, Flamel coughed out loud. Albus gaped, much out of character. Harry raised his eyebrow before sighing. "And I made a wish. It must have gone wrong."

Realization dawned upon Mr. Flamel. He turned to face Dumbledore with a look that they both recognized, but Harry could not. The Flamel looked back at Harry and smiled.

"You are the prophesized one, no?" Flamel asked. Harry warily nodded. "This is great news. You can help us save the world from the wrath of Tom Riddle before it is too late." Harry nodded again, casually.

"I'm a _natural _at that sort of stuff." Harry mumbled.

Albus Dumbledore politely asked Harry to join him in his office and left the two alone in the infirmary. Mister Flamel fished out a sleek black card from his robes and handed it to Harry. "This is an official bypass into the Ministry Department of Mysteries." The elder man gave him a wink. "It might come in handy sometime later, Chosen One.

Harry frowned funnily. Had the alchemist just _winked_? Were all wizards over the age of one hundred and five completely barmy? Winked! The old man had winked at Harry! Flamel should have acted a bit more mature. Harry sighed. Why did he even bother to comprehend such monstrosities?

Harry was left in a daze. It was too much information for the bloke to comprehend.

Harry got up from the bed and limped his way to the headmaster's office. Why was James Potter in the infirmary? He must have injured his leg. Harry's smarts sparked. That must have been the reason to why Dumbledore had discussed Quidditch and falling off of brooms. James probably fell off of his broom during a Quidditch accident. That explained the throbbing pain in his legs.

Harry reached the headmaster's office without much difficulty—the pain wasn't too intense; he had experienced worse—and took a seat directly across from Dumbledore.

"Would you like to enlighten me with your side of things?" Dumbledore asked politely. He popped a lemon drop into his mouth and began to suck on it in a not-so-polite manner.

And so, Harry Potter began the tale of a lifetime. He touched upon the adventures he had had during his times at Hogwarts—the Sorcerer's stone, the Basilisk, the Goblet of Fire. He touched upon the reason for his fame—Voldemort's killing curse rendering Harry the Chosen One. He touched on the quest he had embarked—the Hocruxes, seven in total. After he was done, Dumbledore asked Harry to expound of certain topics, and he did.

OoOoO

"So . . . what happens now?" Harry asked. "I mean, is James Potter dead?"

Albus rubbed his chin. The headmaster's beard was not completely white, with specks of black and white, and was not as long, only reaching a few inches past his chin. "It seems that your soul has overtaken James Potter's body. Either your soul has replaced his soul or the two souls have merged together with your soul overpowering his. Either way, you must live within his body."

"Does that mean that I won't be born?" Harry asked. The young man panicked a bit. He wouldn't have to marry Lily Evans, would he? That would be . . . absurd!

"No, you need not be born in this world. You will continue to live in James's body. Even if you are never born in this universe, your soul will continue to live on and your essence will too. Essentially, you are now James Potter."

"What do I do about Lily Evans?" Harry gulped. He knew his father had been trying to impress her in his years at Hogwarts. Would he have to chase after her too?

Albus chuckled. "And why do you ask about her in particular? As far as I've been informed, James has been chasing after her for all his three years at Hogwarts here, so far. IS there a particular reason that you would not like to do so any longer?"

"Lily Evans," Harry said as he licked his lips, "she's my mother." Harry dropped his gaze to his feet. There was a long insertion of awkward silence.

Albus let out a hearty chuckle. "I always knew James could do it. However, do not fret. Lily Evans is no longer your mother in this universe. Your 'mother' is now James Potter's mother, Dorea. Thus, it is not unethical in the least to have feelings, whether of hate or love, or even have a fancy for Lily Evans. She is now simply another teenage witch in your life, no longer your biological mother. She may resemble your former mother, but she has no connections to you. You are no longer connected to her in any way possible. Your mother is long gone, in another reality, which I believe probably collapsed upon your arrival here."

"Do you want me to act as if I am still James Potter?" Harry asked. The headmaster hummed in agreement before looking up at the clock on the wall.

"Time, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said. "A great thing it is, is it not?"

Harry grinned in response. He's _barmy_, Harry thought.

"You should get going now. It is time for supper." Dumbledore popped a yellow toffee into his mouth.

"You're right." Harry said. "I'd better get going." He gave a small wave and walked down the spiral staircase. He limped a bit, but other than that, he was feeling much better than he had been minutes ago.

He examined the Hogwarts walls and portraits as he walked past them. There wasn't much of a difference. Hogwarts was very much the same. Except for the colored stripes on the ceiling of the infirmary, that is. What was that all about? Perhaps a way of differentiating different realities?

After a tiresome walk down a few flights of stairs, Harry eventually reached the Great Hall. He took a deep breath and reached up to push the doors open. But at the last second, he froze in mid-air.


	3. Somebody to Love

Somebody to Love

Harry Potter stood outside of the Great Hall. He pondered whether or not to go inside of the Great Hall. The longer he waited, the more suspenseful and dramatic his entrance would be. In addition, Harry wasn't ready to face his new peers just yet. He was still getting used to the new body, the new look, the new feel, the new freedom. So, he did not barge into the hall and yell, "I'm back! Anyone miss me?" Instead, Harry decided to eavesdrop on the hushed conversations from a safe distance—from _outside_ the door, where no other would know of his presence. Harry cupped his hand to his ear and leaned towards the impressive entrance, with one side of his body firmly against the hardwood doors.

Minerva McGonagall's voice echoed from inside. ". . . and I assure you that Mister Potter is fine. He has a few head injuries and a major concussion. Although we are not sure, he may also suffer from a slight case of amnesia. Other than that, the young man will be in first-rate condition in a few hours." Harry heard many girls sigh in relief. Harry raised his eyebrows and hid a grin behind his reserved smile. It seemed that James Potter was famous among the female population of Hogwarts. He had expected that, but was not completely sure of what to expect. After all, one could only predict the future.

Harry decided to stall for the time being, for he wished to make his entrance striking and tense; thus, he vouched to go to the kitchens. Harry hastily strolled down the elongated hallways, knowing exactly where to go. He waved to random portraits out of a new sense of thrill. It was s sense of thrill that he had never quite experience, and it was only matched by the thrill he'd felt when he first rode the Nimbus 2000.

"Hello Sir Nicholas!" The boy said as he almost skipped across the long hallway. He turned to his right and greeted the other portraits. "Hello Madam Ulwrich! Good afternoon Sir Camelot!" Harry grinned and rushed across the hallways, leaving a confused batch of enchanted portraits behind. How odd of a student to greet portraits!

For once, Harry Potter felt free. The immense burden he had once carried upon his sturdy shoulders now wavered a few inches higher than it had before. Voldemort wasn't _that_ much of a threat in his life anymore. He could finally be a normal teenager. Or at least, he could try to.

Arriving in front of the portrait of a large green pear, which was situated across from the hallway that led to the Hufflepuff common room, Harry began to examined his surroundings. He looked around cautiously —first left, then right—and finally approached the portrait in small, quiet steps, trying his hardest to muffle his footsteps. When he was only a few centimeters from the portrait, he tickled the fruit's epicenter and smiled as he had a pleasant attack of nostalgia. The fruit let out a giggle before the portrait swung open and revealed a room very similar to the Great Hall. The only difference between it and the Great Hall was that this was a kitchen where hundreds of house elves were cooking delicacies, and the Great Hall was not.

"Oh, Mister Potter!" A female elf squealed and ran forwards. Harry couldn't make out the elf's features, for its features were blurred as it rushed towards him. Upon impact, the elf firmly clung itself to Harry's leg, much to the young lad's embarrassment. The elf looked up and revealed itself as a she. "I is being waiting for yous. I is being preparing chocolate pudding with extra chocolate, just for you sir."

Harry stood there, slightly agape. He looked down at the house elf. It was still firmly attached to his leg. Harry smiled politely before peeling the elf off from his leg. "Thank you . . . Miss?"

The elf's demeanor staggered. At once, it became sullen. Who knew elves had such sensitive feelings? "Sir Potter is not being remembering Zoe?" The elf asked with a frail voice.

Harry's eyes widened at the sight of the depressed house elf. "No, no." He chuckled nervously, trying his best to cheer up the elf. "Of course I know you, Zoe. It's just that I had a small case of . . . memory loss when I fell off of the broom during the most recent Quidditch match. I apologize very much, Zoe."

"Mister Potter gets hurt?" Zoe gasped and covered her small mouth with petite, scaly hands. "Is Sir Potter being alright?" Her worried expression made Harry feel at ease. She cared for him, now did she?

"I'm quite alright now," Harry replied with a smile. "It's quite alright, Zoe. No need to fret."

The house elf immediately took Harry's right hand with both of hers and dragged the young wizard across the kitchen. Harry, a bit perplexed as to what was going on, followed without restraint. Zoe turned around and plopped the boy on a small dinner table chair, and dragged a stool for her to stand on. Then, when the two were at eye level, she let him see the fury in her eyes. The thick frown on her face only exemplified her anger. Harry gulped, wondering what was going on. Why was the elf angry at him? Dealing with angry females was not his area of expertise—it definitely was not.

The female elf scowled at Harry and shook her head in shame. "I being telling yous not to being riding broom so high. I being warning you not to do Quidditch. But Mister Potter not being listen." Zoe placed the back of her hand on Harry's forehead and began to check his state of being.

"I'm alright, Zoe." Harry said with a slight chuckle. Zoe certainly seemed like an elf devoted to James Potter. She was like a duplicate carbon copy of Dobby from his alternate reality—only, she was female. "Thank you for caring for me. I'll be careful next time, I promise."

Zoe wasn't convinced. She wagged her finger at him. "If I being catching you doing bad things again in the air high, I being grounding you and not letting you have your favorite chocolate pudding for a week!"

Harry smiled and patted Zoe on the head. "You are a very responsible house elf, Zoe. And I thank you for that." Harry already felt a small connection between the two of them. She would definitely come in handy sooner or later. She actually cared for him, and as of the time being, she was one of the few who did. Genuine affection was hard to come by.

To Harry's surprise, Zoe blushed from praise. "Sir is being too kind." As if remembering something belatedly, she gasped in horror. "Master Potter has not eaten supper?" Harry frowned. Supper? Was it not called dinner? Or was this alternate reality that much different? Or did this little detail even matter the slightest?

"No, Zoe," Harry said, "I have not yet started eating." Harry almost regretted telling Zoe and flinched under Zoe's steel-hard gaze.

Zoe once again shook her head. "Children these days not being caring for themselves one bit." The elf turned and called to one of the other house elves. "Lexi, dearie, bring Master Potter his favorite healthy regular. Be making sure to include two glasses of nutrient-filled pumpkin juice."

Harry couldn't help but laugh as he watched a nervous-looking female house elf bow deeply and deliver a plate of boiled pasta, grilled chicken breasts, and mashed potatoes. "S-sir Potter, I is being Miss Lexi. Here is your supper, sir."

Harry beamed. "Thank you, Miss Lexi." Lexi blushed a deep magenta before running off in the opposite direction as quickly as possible. The other house elves who saw the kind interaction between wizard and elf smiled at Harry. James Potter seemed to be quite famous in the kitchens. Harry grinned, and almost felt at home.

Harry began to munch on the large meal in front of him like a starved griffin. In between dry bites, Harry sipped the nutrient-enhanced pumpkin juice from the silver goblet. He continued to chew, swallow, and gulp, and slowed his pace of eating after a few cycles. He paused and looked across the table and noticed that Zoe hadn't moved from her spot on the stool. She was looking at Harry very keenly.

"Why are you watching me eat?" Harry asked curiously, although he had a small idea as to why.

Zoe huffed and replied, "I is not leaving until you be finished! You a growing boy, Master Potter! You must not skip meals!"

Harry smiled, but could not argue with her logic. Her maternal figure seemed to warm his heart to the very top. Harry sighed as he continued to munch, swallow, and gulp. Was this how it felt to have a family? Was this how it felt to have a mother who would always be there to care for her children?

Harry let a gloomy shade overtake his mind. His mind began to wander off. Harry sighed. He missed his mother. Sure, he'd seen motherly figures before, but they were all too good to be true. None of them had lasted. None could make up for a true motherly figure. Hell, Harry wanted a mother desperately at that moment. He felt sick to the heart. The tears in his eyes slid down and accumulated in his heart, heaving down his chest. He wanted a true motherly figure to embrace. Somebody to love. If love existed.

Suddenly, Harry began to choke on the food. He began to see red all around him. He heard Zoe shout, and eventually, the voices became too distorted to distinguish. Harry's forehead began to throb and Harry plunged into an abyss located deep inside the heart. What he saw next were glimpses of James Potter's past.

A scream, a laugh, death. So instantaneous that one could not tell them apart. Harry didn't know what happened next. He tried to look around, but a flash of bright light blinded his vision. Soon, he found himself inside the body of another. The body seemed very lightweight and free of burden. Harry tried to look around him, get a view of the surroundings, but his vision was very limited—it was transfixed upon death. A scream, a laugh, death.

"_Mummy! Dadda give new boom!" A four-year-old James Potter rushed up to a ravenous beauty. He showed her his ten-inch long wooden toy broomstick._

_The women gave James a hard glare, her hands at her hips, and began to berate him. The toddler sheepishly looked away. But when she opened her mouth, no words came out. Action, no reaction._

Then, there was another scream, this time louder, and it reverberated inside of Harry's head. A scream, a loss of innocence, death.

"_Mum!" The boy shouted at the top of his lungs. "No! Get away from her, you bastard!" An eight-year-old James Potter tried to physically throw off the assaulter. Before he could do anything, a green flash of light whizzed past him from his left and struck his mother. The ravenous beauty fell to the ground with wide eyes. The boy stopped. He realized what had happened and began to cry."No! Mum!"_ _The boy carefully lifted his mother onto his back and used her hands to wipe his own tears. Before he knew it, the young boy was running at top speed, his mother's lifeless body on his back._

A throbbing pain erupted from within Harry's chest. He was forced to replay memory after memory at random, against his free will. He couldn't control himself. Harry felt hopeless, helpless, histrionic. Just like the boy in his memories had. A scream, a misunderstanding, a betrayal.

"_Where were you Dad?" James screamed. "You abandoned me when I was just five! You left my mom to cope with herself! But she obviously couldn't! Where the hell were you? Answer me, huh?" The man in the background remained silent. "Let's go Siri. My dad's no better than your mum." James growled and stomped away. An equally determined Sirius Black followed James's lead. A sorrowful stark man, presumably the elder man of the Potter family, was left in the shadows._

"Master Potter." Zoe shook Harry from the painful memories. The young man looked up and watched himself be lifted back into the body of James Potter. At last, he reached a level of complete control of his senses. He looked to Zoe, feeling the air around him to be quite surreal. The elf, with a worried frown, asked, "Are you being okay?"

Harry stood up abruptly and scanned his surroundings. That was strange. He had just seen a glimpse at James Potter's past. Was this why James Potter had been so arrogant during his years at Hogwarts? Were pranks a way for him to cope with all the terrible things that had happened to him in life? Harry felt terrible. His grandmother was dead. And his grandfather was a self-conceited arrogant bastard. Or at least, he had been. So much for wanting to meet his family. Harry looked back at Lexi and Zoe. He didn't want to burden them with his problems. Why should he?

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry replied. He plastered a fake smile and gave both of them an affectionate hug. The two house elves blushed from praise but were quick to bow in appreciation of his praise. The two elves led Harry to the entrance of the kitchens and watched the young man make his way back to the Great Hall. After he was out of sight, the elves closed the portrait door that led to the kitchen. At once, Harry quickened his pace. He rushed back down to the ground floor. The portraits on either side of the hall looked up at him expectantly as they watched him stride by. They were expecting a warm greeting, just as last time.

This time, however, the boy didn't wave back.

How very odd.

OoOoO

_Harry's POV_

I took a deep breath and pushed open the door. I had had enough of trouble for the day and hoped to find some solace in the Great Hall. The quicker I made my appearance, the quicker I could make my disappearance to the dorms and go to sleep. But, I did not expect the entire school population to stare at me as I entered the hall. And that's exactly what they did. That's exactly what I didn't want them to do. But they did it anyways. They wouldn't have listened to me anyway.

I cowered back in embarrassment upon stepping into the Great Hall and closing the door behind me. I had never liked being the spotlight of things. In my other life, I used to hide in the shadows. That description isn't exactly true, but it is quite accurate.

You know, now that I mentioned it, I must say that I miss my old life a bit. I mean, it's only been a fw hours that I've been awake in this reality, but already, I feel the weight collecting on top of my shoulders again. That's the last thing I want right now—worries.

I feel a bit peculiar in this new alternate reality, but hey, at least I have some friends in this world, right? There's Zoe, the house elf . . . there's Lexi, the other house elf . . . there's . . . do portraits count as friends? Well, I waved to them earlier and they gave me queer smiles, so I guess they _do_ count as friends. Wow . . . amazing! That's almost five times the number of friends I used to have in my other life. But still, my old life was quite unique in flavor—it was hot and spicy. It was also quite intricate as well. And yeah. So, what was I talking about again? Quidditch . . . ? _No_. Girls . . . ? _Definitely not_. Oh right, I was talking of my old life!

I picked up a few things in my past life. I learned a few important life lessons that will undoubtedly help me in this life. Most lessons were repeats of past lessons. Others were clichés in action. But, hey, I learned from them.

So, first, I gave up on what others thought of me. I just gave up. It was real helpful, the giving up of what others thought of me, especially when they started referring to me as a crazy maniac in my fifth year at Hogwarts. They, being the fudged-up sons of witches who blamed me for the death of Cedric Diggory They called the headmaster crazy too, and I don't mean barmy. I mean, it was a well-known fact that Dumbledore was barmy. But crazy? Dumbledore? No way! Dumbledore was _not _crazy. Barmy and crazy are two completely different things.

Well, I don't know how Dumbledore coped with the death threats to his reputation. I know I couldn't at the time. It was quite uncomfortable, to tell you the truth. I didn't like having my reputation dilapidated to that of criminals in slums. But I learned, just like a baby learns not to touch the hot stove only after he gets his hand burnt a few times. I learned to cope and bottle. Cope with circumstances, bottle up emotions.

I secluded myself, simple as that. I focused all my attentions to my main responsibilities: saving the world from forthcoming disaster and protecting my godson, Teddy Lupin. Actually, scratch the first part. I only wanted to save the world so that Teddy would be safe. So, in essence, I only had one huge responsibility. But, it _is _true that I wanted the rest of humanity to live, but I usually don't tell anyone that.

Second, I gave up on friendship. Hell, I never had friends, to tell you the truth. All I ever had were allies. Dumbledore, my incisive mentor, became like my best friend. That may seem odd, but hey don't judge a spell by its color. Or in this case, by his acquaintances.

Neville was the closest I had to a friend of my age. You might be wondering what happened to Ron and Hermione. Well, Ron and Hermione were good friends, but . . . they were . . . well, let's not talk about them, okay? Oh, and Luna, that crazy sex-crazed kneazle, was my other friend. I know, I know. You may be wondering: Luna and secks? Never! I never believed that there was another kinky side to her either. Funny how it's always the quiet ones. The lot of them hide their alter egos and strike when you least expect them to. Freakin' Gin—never mind that part, mates!

Well, back to Luna. When she got together with Neville, I saw a positive output from my powerful ally. He . . . well, I actually don't see anything positive about them getting together. Neville just . . . seemed to always drone on about how intimate she was with his shaft. Yeah, that doesn't seem like positive output for me. But hey, Neville said it was a positive influence on him, and I believed him to be truthful. Now, you may be wondering, 'How pathetic is this Harry Potter guy?' Well, I was pretty pathetic, to tell you the truth. I enjoyed listening to my friends talk about their sex life. And I dreamed of what would never become reality. But that was my life then, my boring life. This is now, my new life. A new chance at defying the laws of magic.

The only reason I didn't kill myself in my other life any earlier was because of the few things that anchored me to the real world. Well, Teddy was my major responsibility. I _had _to care for him. He was the cutest bugger ever, I'm not lying. It's fact—look it up in the Guinness's World Record Book, Edition three. See it there, on page 213? No? Why not? Okay, fine, I'm lying about Teddy being famous and all, but _still_: he was adorable! His brilliant blue eyes always penetrated my cold exterior. Hell, I spoiled him a lot. I mean, he had Armani clothes at age one _and_ he was zooming around the dining room on his Firebolt, Toddler's Edition! Damn his ability to entrance the great Harry Potter with a simple pout. Now if Voldiemorty ever got a hold of that talent, the Dark Side would have definitely won.

I can't wait to spoil my kids here, but that is only if I decide to continue the Potter line this time around. And Dumbledore was bloody amazing, too. It was like having a grandfatherly figure that always cared for you. He taught me about things like . . . well, I can't quite remember what he taught me, but I can surely say that—

Wait a bloody second. Am I getting off topic? I am, aren't I? Damn it!

Anyway, what was I talking about before the insolent bastard of an author starting asking me about my rather personal sex life? Or, rather, about Neville's sex life? Or was it considered Luna's sex life? Or maybe about both Neville's and Luna's? Great, I can't seem to reach a conclusion. Just bloody brilliant. You know, sometimes, when I think nobody is looking, I think out loud and. . . .

Audience, it's official. I have ADHD! Anyway, back to the _real _story.

So, I stood there, under the gaze of hundreds of Hogwarts students, tapping my shoes against the clear marble floor. I fidgeted. After all, who wouldn't fidget under such immense pressure? The students seemed to be analyzing me, probably thinking I had gone moony or something, especially after taking a free fall from a hundred feet above the ground. But I would obviously prove them wrong! I would defy the laws of magic.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Dumbledore wore an amused expression on his face. I snarled silently. Did he dare to make fun of the great Harry Potter?—that's me, in case you're really daft and believe me to be the real James Potter.

So, I licked my lips and gathered the minimal Gryffindork courage from within me. I wished that luck was still on my side, and that I wouldn't mess up on the day of my arrival into a parallel universe. I eventually reached a decision and decided to sit down with my fellow roommates to finish my supper. I was still hungry at the time—deal with my huge appetite. So, I gulped and started making my way to the Ravenclaw table. Of course, I didn't realize where my legs were leading me to until I actually sat down on the Ravenclaw table.

You might be wondering, the Ravenclaw table? How pathetic. I know, pathetic. But hey, at least you know now that I wasn't lying earlier when I confessed that I had ADHD.

OoOoO

Harry walked over towards the Ravenclaw table, ignorant to the whisperings around him. He was accustomed to them , after all. And, he still hadn't figured out that he was on the wrong table, so he didn't feel a bit ashamed. He promptly sat down next the blond-haired young teenager. The young girl reminded him of Daphne Greengrass. Daphne had been a close ally of his in his old universe and had always been there for him. And thus, Harry felt the need to sit next to the blond who bore such a strong resemblance to his once-ally from the past.

Jessica Lancaster frowned and asked, "What are you doing here Potter?"

Harry felt a bit taken back by the bitter cold in the girl's tone. He was not startled by the harshness of the tone, but by the close resemblance it bore to that of Daphne Greengrass, his once powerful ally. The words Jessica Lancaster were exactly the same words that Daphne had uttered when Harry had tried to gain her trust. "Um," Harry asked, "may I sit here and have a snack?"

Jessica rolled her eyes, pretending her best to portray an aura of chilling poise. "If you didn't notice, Potter," she replied, "this is the Ravenclaw table."

Harry nodded slowly, and took a chocolate chip cookie off of the plate in front of him. Mhm. These cookies were his favorite!—they must be made from a traditional recipe made by the house elves. "So . . . ?" Harry asked. He munched fervently on the cookies and did not yet see the error in his actions.

"Well, if you didn't notice already," Jessica said, "you're on the wrong table." Jessica pointed towards the Gryffindor table located at the other end of the Great Hall. "That is your table. This is the Ravenclaw table. Do—you—un—_der_—stand?" Jessica spoke, extending the syllables in the words at the end of the sentence.

Harry nodded his head enthusiastically. "Yeah," Harry said, "I understand." But on the inside, Harry was having a semi-formal mental breakdown, courtesy of his ADHD. How could he have been so stupid as to sit on the wrong table?

Jessica groaned in frustration. "You're not supposed to be sitting here," the girl said. "Did you hit your head a bit too hard?"

Harry smiled and began to search for a random excuse for his major mess-up. He was good at making stuff up at moment's notice. "Why, milady," he said, "I'm simply promoting house unity." The students around him looked at him weird. "And, is sitting with others such a crime during supper?"

Jessica huffed and said, "You really are daft, Potter. Can't you pick up signals?"

Harry grinned. "Of course I can, ma'am," he said, acting a bit more normal, now that the excitement of entering a new world had washed away. Hogwarts, it seemed, was very much the same. Nothing new to celebrate or fret over.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught a glimpse of Dumbledore. The headmaster gave Harry an approving smile. Harry looked back up at the staff table and gave the professor a thumbs-up. The headmaster actually chuckled and nodded back, sending the message that he understood.

Harry looked back at Jessica and asked, "So, what's your name?"

Jessica growled, surprisingly in a very polite manner, and pretended to be cross with Potter. "Why do you care?" She asked.

Harry raised his eyebrows, but smiled and said, "Hey, I promise I won't bite. Unless . . . your hands are made of chocolate chips or caramel, in which case I just might."

"Jessica Lancaster," she said, mumbling under her breath.

Harry hid his grin. This was Daphne's mother. "That's a beautiful name," Harry said. "But you act quite unladylike."

"Shut—it," Jessica's cold stare shut Harry up. Harry, however, noted that she had turned a shade of bright red, either from embarrassment, praise, or anger.

"Hey," Harry said, raising his hands in the air, "I'm just trying to unite the houses. Besides, you should act a bit more ladylike. It would really—"

Jessica gave Harry a silent glower. That was the only invitation he needed to leave.

"Fine," Harry sighed politely. "I was really hoping to be friends, though." Upon seeing a new emotion wash over Jessica's stoic face, Harry huffed with feigned anger and folded his arms across his chest. "You're quite a mean person, albeit having beautiful hair and eyes, you know that?"

Jessica turned her head to food on her platter and finally blushed.

OoOoO

_Jessica's POV_

I looked back up at James Potter. His silky jet-black hair fell below his ears and covered a bit of his beautiful eyes. I hid my blush as best as I could. Wow, his eyes really are alluring. So, it seems, the rumors of his handsomeness are true after all.

James began to hum a beautiful melody and picked up the school paper. He looked at it weirdly and turned to me. I blushed under his watchful gaze and felt a bit mesmerized by his gaze. That was really an out-of-character thing for me to do. I can't believe that he actually broke through my icy mask. My mum says that when a boy does that, I'll know that he's the one for me. I wonder, is he?

James raised his eyebrows and pointed at the newspaper with his finger. He said something, but I didn't quite catch what he was saying. His eyes . . . you could get lost in them forever. His eyes were a sea of stories. And his lips . . . they were rosy . . . red . . . soft . . . Jessica, get a hold of yourself woman!

"Jessica?" James waved his hand in front of my face.

"Huh?" I blurted out stupidly. "What did you say?" Huh? What did _I _just say?

James ran his hand through his beast-like hair. "I said, what the hell is this?" He handed me the school paper.

"Well, that's the school paper, Jam—Potter." I bit my lip at my minor slip-up but fortunately, he didn't quite catch it.

"Wow , a school newspaper." James mumbled to himself. He began to search through the school newspaper. This time, however, I refrained from looking at him. I didn't want to embarrass myself again.

OoOoO

_Harry's POV_

I looked down at the school paper. They had never had a school paper in my reality. _Nice_. I looked back at Jessica and caught her staring at me. She quickly blushed furiously and turned away, attempting to hide her blush. I smiled, but it was a polite smile. _Nice_. I raised my arms and smelled my armpits. _Nice_!

I looked back at the paper. It was called _Hogwarts Paper_. That was quite an original name, don't you think? The cover story caught my attention immediately. It read: _James Potter_. Wow, I really was famous, wasn't I? I looked at the subtitle and noted that the article was written by none other than Lily Evans. I grinned. This would be fun to read. I wanted to see just how bias Lily would be. The newspaper article read:

^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V

_James Potter: Tragic Hero or Arrogant Git?_

By Lily Evans, Co-Editor of _Hogwarts Paper_

^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V

_June 12 brought along a beautiful and sunny Saturday afternoon. There was no chance of any forthcoming disaster. It was the day of the Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor match, starring our well-known chaser, James Potter. During the match, Potter scored twenty-five times, and the final score was 320 to 100, with Gryffindor in the lead._

_As always, the complacent adolescent boy decided to show off his superb flying skills and began to arrogantly jeer for himself, doing a victory lap around the stadium. Due to his arrogance, he let go of his guard and was simultaneously hit with two buldgers, on either side of the chest, and a quaffle on the back of the head. Shortly after, he lost consciousness and took a hundred-foot airborne fall, despite the futile attempts to save him._

_Currently, he is in the hospital wing under the watchful eyes of Albus 'Many-Names' Dumbledore – the headmaster, Nicholas Flamel – an Unspeakable, and Madame Pompfrey – out very own skilled mediwitch. It is rumored that he is in some sort of magical-induced coma, at the verge of death. At the very least, we expect our _beloved_ hero to have slight cases of amnesia and motor skill disabilities._

_James Potter is the son of Charlus Henry Potter and Dorea Potter née Black, both well-known pureblood families, making him a pureblood himself. He was born on March 27, 1960, and is currently fourteen years of age. During my research, I found out that his mother was murdered on October 31 when he was only eight years of age, in the summer of 1968. His father abandoned him when he was only five years of age. Since his mother's death, he has been living with his magical guardian, Augusta Longbottom. As of July 25th of last year, he was emancipated as Lord Peverell and confirmed the scion of Potter line and baron of Black._

_He has had approximately fifty-eight well-wishers as of the dreadful Saturday, mostly from the female population of Hogwarts, third-year and higher, although there are a few male wishers as well. He has been in the hospital wing for six days now. However, our local mediwitch says, "He will be up and ready to go in just a day or two."_

_Now, many will be happy to hear that James Potter, the "Charmer of the Decade," is well and will be swaggering down the nearest Hogwarts hallway in a few days at the very most. However, some question whether his return will be beneficial to the school as a whole. According to statistics and calculations, it has been estimated that the amount of pranks pulled off since 1971 has increased by a whopping seventy-eight percent, thanks to James Potter and company. For the past six and a half days, it has been estimated that this percent has dropped to only minute two percent! Some, like myself, question whether James Potter's return will be good for the Hogwarts community as a whole._

_Nonetheless, we hope James Swagger Potter makes a well recovery._

Layout and Design By David Davies, _Hogwarts Paper_ Photographer

^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V

There was a picture of me, or rather James, at the end of the article. He was pumping the air with his fist while doing his victory lap. The black and white motion picture looped the same scene over and over again.

I could easily point out the bias point of view. It was too hard not to do so. I mean, Lily had made such an effort to paint me as the arrogant git, hadn't she? I can't believe she actually made calculations. I mean, who wishes to do math outside of Muggle school? I definitely wouldn't do a single math problem, even if I was being forced to—exception: none. I personally hate mathematics. The only things I ever understood was drawing dots, connecting dots, and drawing lines. Aside from that, I was horrendous when it came to math. Wait, you've taken courses in arithmancy and statistical analysis? Muggle, you crazy son of a Squib!

Well, anyway, the next few pages of the newspaper article were public rants by students about homework, boys, girls, James Potter,—it seemed that I was quite a famous topic to discuss,—cosmetics, Muggle-Pureblood conflicts and debates, tips on how to woo wizards and witches, etc. Well, what did you expect? It was your typical teenage-run, hormonal-driven school newspaper.

I looked back at Jessica and began the convoluted process of "checking her out." But I, personally, call it a "Physique Examination of the Opposite Gender's Bits." That just seems a more accurate description to me. I mean, I can check out guys with the broad definition, can I not? Well, I noted that she had silver-blonde hair and amber brown eyes—a very exotic combination of traits. Well, it was a pretty face. I watched as she tucked a strand behind her ear. I never go for the cleavage in girls, so I ignored that section of her body, although I must admit, Daphne definitely got her rack from her mother. But then again, as I said before, I could care less about that.

I could tell that in a few years, Jessica would definitely acquire the necessary curves of a supermodel. Her legs were long, and slender, and . . . long, and slender, and . . . did I already mention long? What about slender? Yeah, as you may have already noticed, I really am pathetic when it comes to girls. I shook my head and promptly got up from the table and began to make my way to the Gryffindor table. I decided, enough of this hormonal, teenage nonsense. Nay, I pleaded to my wanker, do not embarrass me furthermore. Of course, I didn't really say that, because that would be plain weird.

OoOoO

Harry Potter made his way towards the table that was, by far, the rowdiest in the hall—the Gryffindor table. Some people watched Harry walk to his destination, and pointed fingers in his direction, wondering what he was up to this time. Unfortunately, Harry just wanted some peace and quiet, nothing abnormal or out-of-the-ordinary this time around, right?

The boy located Sirius Black, who in turn enthusiastically waved Harry onwards. Harry grinned and rushed over towards Sirius.

"Padfoot!" Harry exclaimed. He tackled Sirius to the ground, and the two began to wrestle one another on the hard marble floor, ignoring the forthcoming bruises they would have to treat later that night. Many of the people sitting in close proximity immediately flung out of the way and cleared the way for the two mischievous boys. Soon, the entire hall was watching the two melee one another, with arms and in a friendly manner, of course. Some of the girls—actually, many of the girls swooned their heads to get a view of the two boys. Lily Evans was, ashamedly, one of them. Lily promised herself that she just wanted to see what was going on, but she too had this external urge to watch the two boys.

Professor McGonagall looked around the staff table and realized that no ther faculty member was willing to break up the commotion. So, she stood up from the staff table and yelled, "Boys!" She began her advance towards the Gryffindor table. "I will not tolerate this nonsense! Ten points from Gryffindor."

Sirius stopped the feigned fight and looked up at the incoming professor. "Madam Minerva, you can't do that. We were just having a kind get-together. Besides, we might lose the cup now."

"Foolishness is, after all, foolishness," she replied, now only a few feet away from Sirius, "I shall not tolerate unacceptable behavior from my students."

Professor Dumbledore stood up from his high chair and smiled. He said, "Minerva, calm down." Then, he looked to the boys on the floor. "James and Sirius, please take a seat. If you are unable to do so, please do take this matter outside." His blue eyes twinkled with a power so domineering yet serene that it calmed down almost everyone present in the hallway, including the stern Transfiguration professor.

"Come on Padfoot," Harry said, "Dumbledore's right. We need to take this outside. Let us talk of our sex life in private." Almost immediately, some of the students who had recovered and were now drinking pumpkin juice spurted it out and gaped at the twain. The girls, more so than the boys, ended the gape with a gasp.

"Whatever you say James," Sirius said loudly. He grinned and picked the other boy up bridal style and carried him outside.

"Hey! Put me down, Sirius!" Harry complained with feigned horror. "Put me down right now! I'm the man in this relationship!" Sirius only tightened his grip on Harry and exited the hall with a feral grin on his face. Sirius then headed towards one of the Marauder secret hideouts. Unknown to the two of them, Peter followed close behind, a playful glint in his eyes.

From inside the Great Hall, the students began to whisper. The co-writer of the _Hogwarts Paper_ began jotting down rumors that arose at that moment. Albus Dumbledore watched the students and smiled. That boy—Harry Potter—was a real charmer. That boy definitely knew how to bring people's spirits up.

"Settle down, everyone," Dumbledore said, raising his voice. When he had everyone's attention, he sighed dramatically. "Unfortunately, I must make a public service announcement at this time. For all those who were interested, you will not be pleased to know that Mister Potter is no longer available for dates, so I suggest you leave him be. He and Mister Black have decided to get serious. Perhaps next time, ladies . . . and gentlemen, too."

"You're barmy!" A Hufflepuff girl shouted, voicing the opinion for the rest of the student population.

Albus smiled back at the second-year. "Indeed I am," he said. "Nitwit, blubber, and kush! Have a pleasant night, all of you. Off to your dormitories everyone, now if you would! And, ignore any sounds that you may hear coming from any random abandoned classroom. That will probably be where you'll find Mister Black and Potter in intimate contact with one another and . . . and it seems that Mister Pettigrew will be there too."

"Barmy!"

OoOoO

"James, we missed you like crazy!" Sirius said, for perhaps the third time in the row. "It's been _so _dull without you. Hell, we weren't even in the mood to prank anyone!" Sirius immediately began to check to see whether Harry was in shape or not. "Let me see where the injuries are, old boy. C'mon now, don't be shy."

"I'm fine now, Padfoot," said Harry. "Pomfrey said everything's alright."

Sirius frowned and asked, "Why do you keep calling me that?"

Harry bit his lip. "Well," he replied, "isn't that's your Marauder name?"

Sirius frowned deeper and said, "Mate, we didn't choose them yet. We were still voting on them this year. But, I like it, I suppose."

"Ooh . . . _right_," Harry said with an uncertain chuckle. "Well, I picked it out for you because . . . it . . . erm . . . suits you."

"James," Sirius asked, "are you feeling alright? Need some Firewhiskey or something?"

"Nah," Harry replied, clearing himself of nervousness. "So, what's up, _seriously_?"

"The ceiling," Sirius replied with a grin.

"Touché, Siri."Harry said. "Do you have anything else to add, SmartPad?"

"Well, I have something to ask you," Sirius said, in an undertone almost, "you know, about Remus's furry problem? Do you think we should do anything about it?" Sirius frowned. "I mean, what can we do?"

Harry sighed and smacked his forehead. Hadn't the Marauders already decided to become animagi yet? "We should keep him company," he replied. "The Marauders stick together!"

Sirius gasped. "Are you mad? Remus is a damn werewolf. I'm not going anywhere near him, even if he is our friend. I don't mean to be rude, but I would like to have children of my own someday."

Harry rolled his eyes. "We can become animagi." Hel_lo_!

Sirius frowned. "You mean, like be able to turn into animals at will?" Sirius asked. Then, he added, "That's brilliant James!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course it is. Well, I think we should start this year. We'll make the potion and then practice over the summer, alright?"

"Sure, but two things." Sirius said. "One, what about Peter? Two, do we tell Remus?"

Harry bit his tongue. "Well, we'll talk about it later. Meet me on the seventh floor at ten o' clock." Harry said. "Or rather, meet me in the Gryffindor common room and we'll go there together under my cloak. And we don't tell Remus because he would obviously try to dissuade us, since it's illegal to become unregistered animagi and stuff. And, it'll be a birthday present for him, yeah?"

Sirius nodded. "Yeah, but what about Peter?" he queried again.

Harry sighed. "To tell you the truth, Siri," Harry said, "I don't trust Pete that much anymore."

Sirius gaped and then glared at him. "What the hell do you mean?"

Harry bit his tongue. "I think he's using the Marauders as a way to make friends. He's using us for popularity, fame, and power. I think he might be hanging around the wrong crew whenever he's gone. He might be hanging out with the Slytherins."

"That's preposterous!" Sirius exclaimed. "Peter wouldn't betray us in a million years, would he?"

Harry shrugged, grunting internally. Oh the irony. "I don't want to trust him with all of our secrets," said Harry. "And until he proves it, I can't trust Peter again. I hope you take my advice."

Sirius nodded meekly. "Well, he does wander off at times and I did see him . . . are you sure about this, James?"

"Yes, I'm almost certain," Harry said.

Sirius shrugged and said, "I still think we should include Peter."

Harry sighed. "We'll see. I'll send you a letter explaining everything over the summer." Harry said. "For now, let's get back to the dorms right now. I want to get some rest for once."

Sirius shrugged and followed James back to the Gryffindor common room. They still didn't notice Peter Pettigrew lurking around in the background.

OoOoO

_Peter's POV_

I looked as James and Sirius stormed back to the Gryffinor dormitories. At first, I began to rage. How dare they accuse me of ever even thinking of betraying them?

But then, I remembered all the moments I had had where I had wished for more power. And wished to be more like James. He was my idol. He had fame, power, and glory. All the time I had vowed to become better than the Marauders and become the almighty overlord of the world . . . was I really a bad person?

James was right. I was evil!

I put my head into my hands and began to sob. I had never had friends. The Marauders were the only people who had ever cared about me. And I was actually using them! I had been using them for my own purposes. And James was right! I did secretly have desires to be like the slimy Slytherins! I remember meeting Severus and Lucius. They had been discussing a new dark lord. I had been thinking about joining him. But now, I wouldn't!

I smacked myself. _No_! I would never betray the Marauders, ever. I vowed to always be there. Right there. Right then.

"I swear upon my life and magic that I will never betray the Marauders and I will never turn dark. So mote it!" A golden dome of light erupted from my flimsy wand and engulfed my body. I sighed contently, knowing that I would definitely never go dark now. I no longer had to fear my tepid character.

I stepped out of the shadows and followed James and Sirius's path back towards the dormitory. Yes, I would always be at their side from now on. As long as I lived, I would be a Marauder. And if I died, I would continue to follow the ideals of a true Marauder. Once a Marauder, always a Marauder.

OoOoO

Albus Dumbledore watched the small petite and chubby Peter boy with keen eyes. Finally, the wizened headmaster frowned. And then, a smile formed on his lips. Harry Potter had helped redeem another lost cause. Yes, Harry Potter was a true hero. The true leader of the Light. Dumbledore looked at the Elder Wand in his hand. He didn't deserve this wand, Harry did. And soon, enough, he would hand it to him.

Harry Potter was a perfect and ideal human being. But, he was also very flawed. From using basic empathic legilimency probing, Dumbledore had been able to detect the numerous emotional problems that affected Harry. Harry Potter was a broken man, and he needed help. More importantly, he needed somebody to love.

Hopefully, nobody would betray Harry's trust in this new world. This would be a new start for him. The headmaster would make sure of this. Albus smiled. Yes, he would help poor Harry attain the lost love, the love he'd left behind far back into his childhood. In this world, Dumbledore vowed to keep Harry James Potter safe and loved by all means possible. Albus Dumbledore had a plan.

But of course, we know from prior experience that Albus Dumbledore's plans don't always go as planned.


	4. The Sword or the Clock

~ / Solo Lyrics \ ~ (/ Chorus Lyrics \) ~

The Sword or the Clock

_Harry's POV_

I woke up in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, and I can tell you right now that it was very similar to the one I was used to waking up in. There were four beds stacked around in a circle around this odd-looking pole in the middle of the room. The beds were draped with red and gold bed sheets. Even though the beds looked in a dilapidated condition, the mattresses were as soft as jelly. There must have been some sort of charm that kept the beds as comfortable for the students as possible. Of course, the setup was nothing new. It wasn't anything that was too distracting or out of place. I almost felt at home. Except, I have never had a home to begin with. But that's another story.

But you know, talking of homes and beds, I would still rather wake up in the Slytherin girls' dormitory than anywhere else in Hogwarts. Of course, I wouldn't know how it feels to wake up in there, now would I? Or would I . . . ? Nah, I'm just kidding. I've never been anywhere close to two inches of any girl dormitories. Unless, of course, I was unaware of it and was drunk or something and . . . but the problem with that is that I've never allowed an ounce of alcohol to come in contact with my lips, so that possibility doesn't even make sense so . . . wait a second, why are we on the topic of alcohol and girl dorms again? How did I start talking about waking up and end up talking about sex? I mean, girls and alcohol. They're the same thing, though, right? I mean, sex . . . aah!

So last night, I slept alright. Yes, let us discuss my first conscious night in this new reality. I climbed into bed, set my glasses on the small table next to the bed, and closed my eyes. I tried to go to sleep, but I just couldn't. So, I opened my eyes, just a bit, and looked out the window across the room and stared at the bright stars in the night sky. Eventually, I did fall asleep, but that was a bit difficult because of Sirius's loud snoring and of a small case of nostalgia-induced insomnia. Well, when I did close my eyes, I realized I should have simply kept awake. I fell into that stupid black abyss again, when I closed my eyes. And then, when I couldn't open my eyes and was in a deep sleep, they started—the fucking nightmares. Not going into any detail, let's assume for the moment that whatever I say is very much true. Keeping that in mind, I'll tell you this: my past still haunts me, and my past will continue to haunt me, no matter how hard I try to run away from it or where I go. Anyways, let's not get too melancholy. Because the good news is that I did wake up, even though it felt as if that I would never wake.

I woke up fairly early on my first day here, at around five o'clock. After doing a few quick stretches while still in bed, I got out from under the blanket and stepped down on the cold wooden floor. I surveyed the room and spotted my trunk. I opened it, the trunk, and looked through it. There wasn't anything of value inside of it except for the Invisibility Cloak, which I had nicknamed "Deathly Hallow _Tres_." I shuffled through the trunk some more and found several hard-copy books, most being useless textbooks on school subjects. I found a textbook about Quidditch techniques, another about Transfiguration, and yet another about Herbology. All three were in mint condition. Ignoring everything, I dug to the very bottom of the trunk, hoping that James Potter kept at least something of value there. The bottom of the trunk is usually where many wizards keep their valuables. So, I figured James might have done that too. And surprisingly, he did: I found a blank green book at the bottom of all the junk.

The green book was very odd, and I wasn't very sure of its importance. I assumed it was important; it stood out from the other pedestrian books. I neared the book to eye level and examined it. It was too thin to be a textbook and it was too thick to be a notebook. Unlike the rest of the books, this one was bounded by a leather strap and had a green velvet cover. I ran the tip of my fingers along the surface of the velvet and was able to feel the hum of magic emanating from the core of the book, and so, from experience, I assumed it to be charm resistant among other things. I tried to open it but found that it was, as I had suspected, locked by a password or secret code of some sort. After several failed attempts at cracking the code ("Marauders? Potter? Lily Evans is beautiful? Okay, what about magic is bloody amazing? Fine, I give up."), I found the book to be quite useless as well. However, I threw it into my knapsack. I decided to ask Dumbledore about it later on in the day. For some odd reason, my instinct told me that this book was important. I listened to my instinct. This book was probably important, so I kept it. But, I would probably forget about it, damn my attention span.

I looked around and noticed that Sirius, Remus, and Peter were soundly asleep. I guessed that neither James Potter nor his peers were early risers. I didn't blame them. Normal teenagers don't wake up at five o'clock in the morning. They don't suffer from nostalgia-induced insomnia. And they certainly do not suffer from Harry Potter syndrome—that's a rare condition where an individual suffers from sporadic urges to save the world. It is also known as the SPT syndrome—the saving-people-thing syndrome. Well, anyway, I stopped staring at my roommates at one point and decided to wash up for the day.

I groggily made my way into the boy's bathroom on the seventh floor. The sinks were lined across the wall covered largely by mirrors. There were two sections to the large public bathroom—one section composed of smaller stalls with urinals and the other of larger stalls with miniature shower rooms. I was feeling very lethargic. But, upon sighting the urinals, I had a sudden urging in my stomach and ended up rushing into one of the stalls to take a quick dump—that took a good five minutes. Afterwards, I washed up, I brushed my teeth, I secured my clothes and wand in the small compartments between the sinks, and I jumped into one of the other larger stalls to take a shower. Luckily, I didn't need to shave yet, so the whole process was greatly reduced to a net minimum of fifteen minutes—talk about being efficient! I got out of the large stalls, dried and in undergarments, and looked into the mirror that covered the entire wall. I began pulling on loose Muggle attire to get ready the morning workout and lightly hummed to myself.

As I was drying my wet hair with a warming charm, I noticed something strange about my appearance. I frowned and put down the wand I was using in the gap in between the sinks. I neared the mirror and frowned at the features being reflected back at me. The person that stared back at me from behind the mirror looked different, quite different. He wasn't me. Definitely not. He was James Potter. I noted, instead of the usual two green gems, two sapphire orbs staring back at me. The person in the mirror was not me. He was someone else. He wasn't me. Rather, I wasn't that person behind the mirror. We were supposed to be the same person, and we may have been identical in appearance, but we were very different from the inside. The man behind the mirror frowned all of a sudden and looked awfully mad about something—or maybe I was making a big deal out of the damn mirror. It was as if the person behind the mirror was trapped and couldn't do anything about it. The man put the tips of his fingers against the glass and tried to get in contact with my fingers on the glass, but he couldn't. I could tell that he wanted me to do something: he wanted me to give up this body; he wanted me give back James Potter his body. But, I wanted to tell the man behind the mirror, I couldn't do that because James Potter was dead. I couldn't give back the body. I couldn't just give up the body. But then, I realized that I was just imagining things and I was just talking to myself. Weird, isn't it? Well, I'm quite weird, I'll have you know. But, I swear, there was something wrong with that mirror, that image. It was . . . odd.

Well, I went back to the Gryffindor tower and found my knapsack. I strapped it safely over my left shoulder and neared the window across the room. I settled down on the windowsill and smiled a cheerless smile upon sighting the early sunrise. I gazed out at the beautiful orange silhouette of the sun in the horizon and began to _think_. I decided: it was time to be serious. My behavior had been quite lacking the normal effort. I wasn't thinking ahead, for the future, as I should have been. After all, the fate of the world hovered in my scar-ridden hands. So, I began to think.

It was nineteen seventy-three. Voldemort was still evil. He was still weird. And, unlike the many other dark lords like himself, he was _not_on a hunt for a Dark Lady or Dark Heir anytime soon. I mean, that would have been _my_top priority, were I to become an evil Dark Lord someday. The first thing I would do would be to select a viable partner capable of the status as Dark Lady. Then, we would rule the world in harmony and bear heirs that would carry on the kingdom of Evil. Alas, my morals refuse to allow me to become an evil Dark Lord. I can only be Light's Warrior. Oh well, maybe next time I'll get a chance to do that.

Anyway, I began to think deeper, just a bit deeper. Surprisingly enough, I started getting some really good ideas. I thought about Voldemort. From there, I concluded that he had to be eliminated at all costs. I assumed him to be finishing his hocruxes at the moment. From there, I started thinking about Hocruxes.

Using some very tedious and difficult reasoning—I'm obviously_ not _being sarcastic—I figured that Voldemort couldn't have made Harry Potter a hocrux yet. Well, for those who don't understand why: Harry Potter had not yet come into existence, so he couldn't be a hocrux. Further applying the same mind-boggling logic, I figured that there was a very good possibility that Voldemort only had six hocruxes so far. For those who don't get it: Voldemort is a bit full of himself and wouldn't actually start making more hocruxes than necessary unless he realizes someone's hunting them down.

I clucked my tongue and began to make a mental list of the six possible hocruxes.

Well, the Hufflepuff cup was very likely to be hocrux. Voldemort had also probably made Ravenclaw's diadem a hocrux and hidden it somewhere inside Hogwarts, probably the Room of Requirement again. After those two hocruxes, there were the other three that were _most likely_, but not most definitely, hocruxes: Slytherin's locket, the ring, and the diary. They were all very likely hocruxes, and if one of them wasn't a real hocrux, I was screwed big time. As for the sixth hocrux, I wasn't too sure as to what it was. You see, before Dumbledore died, he gave me a list of possible hocruxes. He told me about seven of them, my scar included in there. However, I never got to killing Nagini, so I can only hope that she's the sixth hocrux. I reckon she probably is. Voldemort cares too much for Nagini, or at least more than I would expect him to. She's probably the only living organism Voldemort trusts.

So, really, all I had to do was find the six hocruxes, challenge Voldemort to a duel, and finish him off. Bingo! It was a perfect plan, right? Um, yeah . . . it was _perfect_. Not.

I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath. I told myself that everything would be alright. Voldemort would be French toast, especially good toast if I could fool him into underestimating my true capability. Everything would be fine, I told myself. I would finally find negotiable peace. But that word, _probably_, lingered in my head by some loose string for long after the euphoric thoughts swept my mind.

For some odd reason, I had this very acerbic, gut-wrenching feeling from deep down inside of me that this was _not_ the case. Not the case at all. Voldemort wouldn't be the French toast I imagined him to be, especially not good toast. Rather, he was going to be spoiled milk. I don't see how that analogy works, but whatever, you get the point. Voldemort's lousy and hard to catch. This mission of defeating him once and for all would be a very slippery one indeed, and the success rate would most likely be very low. You see: I don't know why, but no matter how hard I try, things never work out the way that I want them to. Magic bless my bloody luck. I would probably fail in destroying the hocruxes. He would probably find out that I was out to get the pieces of his soul, and he would probably make new ones, and he would end up killing me and the rest of society and all those who ever loved me or cared for me and . . . I'll quit rambling for the mo'.

Honestly, I need a break for now. The rest of the day was quite blissful, more or less. I really cannot continue without sounding too pessimistic. All this sulking is making me extremely nostalgic, too. It's reminding me of how I failed in my world, and of how I failed the loved ones around me. Like . . . Teddy. He died, because of me, you know that? It was my fault, all my fucking fault. Could have saved him, I could have. Stupid miracles never work when you need them to, though. Damn that cute bugger, I miss him. I really do. You know, if you're listening Teddy,just know that_ I miss you._ Of course, that's a silly thing to say because you're . . . dead.

OoOoO

Harry let his head fall back and rest against the window pane. Rubbing his neck, he looked around the room. What was the time? He frowned and searched the room for a clock. But, there was not a clock in sight. Where was a clock when you needed one?

The young teenage wizard was about to cast a _Tempus_charm to accurately check the time when he realized that he couldn't do that. Harry stopped the incantation for the charm midway and sighed. He couldn't risk it. The wand in his hand wasn't actually his to begin with; it was the wand of James Potter. It was believed that if a person were to cast a spell using a wand not suited well for that particular person—if the wand did not suit the wizard's magical core—, then the spell performed could go horribly wrong. The spell could possibly backfire on the caster.

Afraid that even the slightest of spells would cause a loud explosion of some sort, Harry moved the wand to eye-level and examined it with great precision. It was a mahogany wand, probably eleven inches in length. Harry scratched his head and wondered whether or not the wand would work for him. Chances were that it wouldn't work because his magical core was very different from most individuals, but it was worth a try. For one, he didn't have the Elder Wand (yet), and he obviously did not have his old phoenix core wand either. For another, he liked a bit of spice and excitement in life, and he got quite bored when he was out of adrenaline-pumping actions for more than seventy-two hours.

Harry slipped out of the dormitory, as quietly as he could, and made his way towards the Room of Requirement. Luckily, the room wasn't situated too far away from the Gryffindor common room, so the small trip took only a few minutes. When he was a few feet away, he began thinking of a safe place, one without any windows. When he was only a foot away, a small, narrow door materialized, and it disappeared as soon as Harry had gone through it.

Once inside, Harry concentrated, once again, blocking out all external disturbances, and he willed the room to transform into a dueling arena with several practice dummies. He looked around and met the sight of a wide selection of practice targets. Licking his lips, he specifically targeted a dummy—this dummy resembled a gangly redhead young man with freckles and spiteful ice blue eyes—and muttered, _"Reducto!"_

The bulky, brown wand in his hand quivered a bit before emitting a dim pink light. The dim pink spell sailed across the bland room and impacted the dummy. However, the collision of the spell on the dummy did not damage the dummy I any manner. Harry clenched his hand, and tried again. This time, the spell plummeted to the stone ground, forming an arch, before even reaching the intended target. The wand would not work for him.

The black-haired boy shouted, "Damn it!" before throwing the wand onto the floor. Useless, just like the textbooks. Everything he'd come into contact with since the morning had been useless.

Harry Potter neared the wall to his right and crouched down, sliding against the smooth, gray stone wall in the process. He clutched his head with both hands and let out a grumble of dissatisfaction. He really needed to get serious if he wished to succeed in his mission. So far, he'd been taking everything too lightly. He hadn't thought about the wand. He'd assumed that it would work. Actually, he'd ignored all the minor details since his arrival. He'd tried to act like a normal person. But, he couldn't do it. He needed to act, now.

Without a wand, the ordinary wizard was helpless. Having a malfunctioning weapon in battle was as good as having no weapon at all. If any wizard were to walk into battle with a malfunctioning wand against any other—no matter Muggle, Squib, or Wizard—he would suffer a devastating loss. It was just the truth. If you weren't the one with the stick beating up the opponent, then chances were that you were the one getting beat up. Harry couldn't afford to go into battle without a functional wand. Even though he had vast knowledge about wandless magic, Harry preferred using a power outlet of some sort, preferably a wand or staff. He'd never tried a staff, for a wand was much more compact and efficient, though not as powerful.

Harry wondered: could he battle Voldemort's forces without a wand? He did know wandless magic. Maybe, if he practiced, he could utilize it just as well as through a wand. But there was a catch to attempting wandless magic and related arts: wandless magic and nonverbal casting both took up _a lot_ of energy and magic; they also required superfluous amounts of concentration from the caster in order to perform consecutive spells, one after the other. Harry shook his head. No, he needed a wand. The wand was an essential tool that helped one harness his full magical potential. It was especially useful whenever one was fatally fatigued in battle, and that had happened to Harry on multiple occasions.

Harry licked his lips. He felt so weak, so insignificant, at the moment. His magic reserves were severely low. His soul was still adapting to the new host body. Using wandless magic at this stage would lead to what can only be described as a hyper-chaotic disaster—magical self-combustion. He couldn't afford to not have a wand: having a wand had too many advantages.

Harry frowned. Where would he get a functional wand from? Harry looked at the wand that now rested on the floor. If he carried a wand with him, even if it didn't work, he could use it to come off as a dangerous person. He could pretend to use it, and he could use the wand as a tool of intimidation. Harry snorted to himself. Like Voldemort would buy that. Huffing at the unfairness of life, Harry picked up the _useless_ wand and got up onto his feet determinedly.

_No_, he would _not_give up. Harry Potter never gave up. That was not his style. Harry always figured things out, always. And, it was during this moment of sudden determination that Harry remembered the other wand he'd used once before in his own reality. The green wand.

Harry left the room in a rush. He stretched his arms in midair and thundered down seven flights of stairs, skipping every three steps to quicken his pace. When he reached the ground floor, he made his way towards the courtyard in front of the lake. The other thing he needed to focus on for the moment was physical fitness. Agility, dexterity, and magical skill all tied in together very nicely. If he wanted any chance to defeat the Dark Lord at all this time around, Harry would need to get into shape.

In the other world, starting in his sixth year, the boy had started daily work out sessions in the mornings. Each day, he would wake up, preferably at the peak of dawn, and do a few vigorous exercises. He would start with at least two to three sets of forty pushups, continue with three to four sets of two hundred sit-ups, and finish off with a run around the entire lake at top speed or with a jog around the lake as many times as possible within fifteen minutes. Some days, he would do three sets of curl-ups after the run. This routine had established very good burst agility within Harry.

Harry sat down onto the plush green grass in front of the serene lake. He observed the scene before him before stretching out his arms and legs. Although James Potter's body was very muscular, it was nothing compared to the agile body of Harry Potter. In duels, agility was much more important than was brute force. Harry needed to develop burst power and maintain endurance. After all, as Harry had concluded a long time ago, if he wanted to be able to weave in and out of the strings of spells Voldemort would throw at him in duels, he would need to have a lean, sturdy, and agile body. He would need reflexes, yes, that was true, but he would also need burst power to be able to launch the body into certain positions to dodge attacks.

OoOoO

_Lily's POV_

I woke up, feeling a bit odd. When I looked at the alarm clock and saw that it was only 5:30 AM, I frowned. Not late afterwards, I wrinkled my nose and tossed over onto my stomach in bed. I tried to close my eyes and go to sleep. But, I couldn't. Why was I awake so early? After a few minutes of tossing back and forth, I finally sat up and felt refreshed. I eventually got up and, having nothing else to do, stomped my way to the bathroom to freshen my pretty face.

I ended up spending almost thirty minutes in the bathroom because I decided that taking a long bath would be very relaxing. I put on snug clothes, my jeans and favorite shirt, and stepped out of the bathroom and into the girls' dorms. I smiled, noting how convenient it was for us ladies. The boys had to go outside their dorms to use the bathroom, but the girls' bathrooms were built right inside of the dorms. I moved in front of the mirror of the dresser and began to brush my wet, crimson hair. I frowned and made sure to take out as many knots out of my hair as possible. I looked at the other girls from the dorm. They were asleep. What was I to do this early in the morning? It was too early for breakfast. I looked out the window on the left and spotted the large lake that stretched across the horizon. I smiled and decided what I would do: I would go sit out by the lake and relax for a while.

Then, I frowned and remembered the upcoming exams. Ugh . . . stupid exams. They always had to ruin my plans, didn't they? I frowned. I didn't feel much like leaving the comfort of the room, but I knew that just sitting there cross-legged on the bed with nothing to do would get boring quickly. Honestly, June was the worst month of the year, especially with all these finals and all the teenage drama. Study for exams or go to the lake? I pondered for a while before deciding, why not do both? I would go to the lake, and I could even study there.

I grabbed my Transfiguration notebook and put on yellow sandals. It was a pretty hot day, probably around twenty-eight degrees Celsius. Hugging my schoolbook close to my chest, I descended the common room. Without second thought, I marched out of the common room and hurried down the large magical staircase. I made my way towards the north exit. That was where the entrance to the lake was located.

It was perfect weather to study out by the lake, actually. I mean, who wouldn't go outside to get brisk morning breeze on a hot summer day? Yet, something told me that studying by the lake was a bad idea. No, scratch that: it was a very bad idea. I don't know exactly why, but I ruled against my gut and went anyway. I felt like breaking the rules. Well, I didn't really break any rules. I only ruled against common sense.

I walked to the edge of the lake and plopped down along the shore. I took my right hand and dipped it in the cold water. I shuddered a smile and retracted my hand from the water. The smell of fresh air brushed against my round nose. I slowly closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. I turned around and lay on my stomach. The vibrant grass, freshly-trimmed and green, had a beautiful aroma that teased my nose. I noticed strands of my red hair fall against the grass. The grass contrasted perfectly with the strands of red hair.

I eventually busied myself with work. I opened my Transfiguration book and skimmed through them, humming along the way as I recognized particular details. I was about to start reading over my third-year notes when something in the distance caught my attention.

A figure, probably a student, was running laps around the lake. I frowned. Who in the world would have the sheer willpower to wake up this early in the morning just to run around the lake? As far as I knew, many Purebloods disregarded Muggle ways of life. That included exercising in the morning. It was probably some Muggleborn wanting to maintain good hygiene. I grew curious. Was he a second year? Or was he my age, a third year, perhaps?

I pondered on who the mystery _boy_was. The person could very well have been a Muggle-born girl too, but secretly, I was hoping that it was a boy. I immediately blushed and smacked myself lightly with the back of my hand. I would not let some petty little teenage hormones take me over! No, that was not Lily. Lily Evans was a studious girl who could care less about relationships . . . right?

I frowned prettily. Wrong. I bobbed my head up and turned my attention towards the approaching figure. My heart fluttered upon realizing that it was indeed a boy. Well, he had masculine features. I squinted my eyes and noted that it was indeed a boy. He had black hair, a very _well-built_ chest, and _well-toned_ abs. I frowned and blushed lightly. That wasn't possible. How could a guy be so perfect?

My frown turned curious again. I began to wonder: which of the Muggleborns in the school matched the description of the boy in question. From my perspective, he was a tad short to be a fifth year, but too tall to be a second year. As the boy inched closer, his features became more visible. He had, I noted with wonder, _unruly_ jet-black hair, steel-rimmed glasses, and a dreadful, winning smile on his face.

I gaped. Now that I look back on it, I don't know exactly _why_I gaped. Any other girl would have gaped, wouldn't she have? I gaped because . . . well, I don't know why I gaped. Was it because the boy looked so attractive, or was it because the boy was my worst nightmare come true?

OoOoO

The boy closed the large gap in between Lily Evans and himself fairly quickly. He had just finished running seven loops around the lake, and he'd done it in just fifteen minutes. He was quite out of breath. He stopped a few feet away from Lily and clutched his knees tightly. He was breathing quite heavily. He gazed at the ground for a while, but finally, he looked up at her. Simple creases dawned upon his face. "Um, hi?" He didn't exactly recognize the girl. He was feeling very light-headed and was unable to see properly.

Lily Evans tried to look as if the sky had fallen, but she failed to keep up the mean frown. She leered at the boy's body and blushed. "What are you doing here Potter?" Why was she looking at his body? More importantly, why was she blushing? Even more importantly, why was he so attractive?

"Well," said Harry, biting his lip, "it's kind of a long story." Harry's mind worked furiously. He needed to stall her. He needed time to think. This was Lily Evans, and he needed to flirt with her! He needed to keep up the image of him being James Potter. And in order for that to work out, he needed to act normal. Flirting with Lily Evans was considered normal for James Potter.

But the problem was that Harry was _horrendous_when it came to flirting with other girls. He had never intentionally flirted with anyone before. He was usually quiet and reserved around people he didn't consider friends, which was practically everyone. Taking in a deep breath, he formulated a master plan, hoping it would work. Well, truthfully, it wasn't that grand a plan.

"Entertain me," Lily said, with an unreadable face. She tried her best to look unimpressed. She tried her best to hate Potter. But she couldn't. It must have been the accident. She was still feeling sorry for the boy. Or maybe, there was another reason.

"If you really want to know, I'll tell you," he said. Harry then plastered on a feigned mischievous grin and shrugged. "I was, oh, you know, the usual: running_laps_." He wiggled his eyebrows at the end of the sentence. From inside, Harry was quite worried though. He was unsure whether his previous statement was considered to be flirting. Wait, how did "running laps" imply any thing perverse at all?

"You exercise in the mornings?" Lily asked, a bit unsure of her own voice. This wasn't the same Potter, was it? It couldn't be Potter! Could he be, perhaps, a distant relative who just happened to look exactly like him? Lily gulped and suddenly became very fascinated with her yellow strap-on sandals. As an afterthought, she mumbled, "Wow."

"Well, yeah," he replied with a fake grin. Harry clenched his teeth and said, "I mean, yeah. I do that all the time. Yeah . . . I do that . . . yeah." Harry ended up chuckling very nervously by the end. He didn't know what to say, and he felt his mouth go dry.

Lily gaped slightly and looked back up, completely bewildered by his polite and nice tone, not to mention almost humble tone. She looked at the boy and watched him fidget under her gaze. Lily was immediately taken back. Potter had never acted nervous before, _ever_. He wasn't the shy type. He was rowdy and rude. He was always so confident and uptight. Especially around her. So, then, why was he acting so weird? Why hadn't he insulted her yet? Why hadn't he asked her out to a date yet? Why hadn't he . . . ? Not that she wanted him to do any of that!

"Who are you?" Lily asked. Lily bore her green eyes into his blue ones and began to search for an answer. Why was he acting so odd and friendly?

Harry gained some composure and tried to act as natural an athlete as possible. He snatched a water bottle from inside his knapsack and sprayed it all over his face, drenching himself wet. He ended up spraying too much over his running shorts. _Real smooth_. He wiped his face and looked back at the shocked girl.

"As of the moment," Harry said, "I am . . . James Potter."

"Are you really?" Lily queried. What type of prank was he playing on her now? She got up from the grass and towered a bit below his eyes.

"Yes," Harry said, with a polite smile, "I really am he: Swagger Foolish Potter."

"Well, you don't look like Potter to me," Lily replied. "You're not someone else in Polyjuice potion, are you?"

"Nope," Harry said as he began to casually stretch his arms. He was actually getting the hang of it. It wasn't too hard, talking to a girl, as long as he pretended to be someone he really wasn't. This was too easy. "I don't do that kind of stuff too often."

"So," Lily started to say something but stopped. She bit the inside of her cheeks and asked, "Why haven't you . . . well, why haven't you . . . ?"

"Why haven't I what?" asked Harry.

"Well . . . you know!" Lily said in frustration. "Why haven't you asked me already?"

Harry looked at Lily with a look of complete innocence. He scratched his head and _feigned_ cluelessness. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Lily."

"Why haven't you already . . . asked me?"

Harry cocked his head sideway. He replied, "Well . . . can you please elaborate?"

"You _know_. . . asked me," Lily said with a scowl. She noted Potter's bangs and felt a bit entranced by the wild hair for a moment. "Well, you know . . . asked me to Hogsmeade?" Immediately after saying that, she blushed slightly and realized how silly she must have sounded. And then, Lily quickly added, "Not that I want you to."

Harry looked unfazed, or at least he pretended to. He finally chuckled and said, "Uh, sorry miss. I really have no clue what you're talking about."

"Oh," she said meekly. Lily stood there, dumbstruck. After a moment of awkward pause, Lily decided to ask, "So, are you feeling better . . . since the acc—"

"Well, sorry to interrupt, but I really must go," Harry said with a polite smile. "I'd love to talk but I have three minutes of cool down to do, and I don't want to cramp up—that would be _bad_. Then, there are the few sets of curl-ups. I'll catch up to you later." With that, Harry jogged away and began to circle the lake once more.

Lily watched the boy leave. She threw her Transfiguration book onto the floor and hugged her knees to her chest. She was confused. She looked at the retreating figure. No boasting, no bloating, nothing? Why hadn't he taunted her? Why hadn't he ridiculed her? He could very well have mocked her about his workout sessions. He could have taunted her with some remark as, "Like what you see, Evans?" or "I know you want some, Evans."

He could have teased her about being a little bookworm with no skill whatsoever. He could even have asked for a kiss in return for Transfiguration tutoring. He had done it before. So, why not now?

"He just has to mess with my head, doesn't he?" Lily grumbled to herself. She turned onto her belly and began to study her notes. Occasionally, she would look across the lake and would spot him doing his set of curl-ups.

Since when had James Potter started working out in the mornings? How did he even know of all these Muggle exercises? Did other members of the Quidditch team also follow such routines in the morning, or was this Potter's secret to success as a Seeker? How could Potter possibly know about Muggle ways of staying fit?

Lily's thoughts switched back to James Potter. He had . . . changed. His attitude . . . he was acting too nice. Was he the same James Potter? The same annoying boy she had come to know these past years? Could this all be because of the Quidditch accident? Could he really have changed because of that? Could a simple thing as a Quidditch accident have changed his personality completely? Well, of course, it wasn't just so simple an accident, and the injuries did have several implications on Potter. But the basic question still stood there like an erect tree: had James Potter changed for the better? The small conversation with Potter played back inside of Lily's frustrated head. She examined his every action and her every reaction. And then, she deepened her frown.

"Has he really changed?" she asked in a loud whisper. Nobody responded, for nobody had an answer. So, still in a state of denial and utter befuddlement, Lily shook her head and dragged herself back to the castle. He couldn't have.

OoOoO

_Harry's POV_

Okay, I have to admit that Lily looked pretty hot—wait, no: that sounds too perverted a term to use. I'll just say that she looked quite _resplendent_. She was wearing this little t-shirt and these really nice long jeans. Do you want to know _exactly_how nice she looked? Well, why don't you gather your courage and ask little itty-bitty Harry here? Well, he's not that small, is he? I certainly hope not. Wait a second . . . my talking of little Harry is a bit homosexual, isn't it? I mean, not many men talk about their own . . . well, you know what I mean: I don't want to say _penis_. Oh wait, I just did.

Well anyway, my morning went pretty swell. I managed pull off a hundred pushups, but right after I fell face down on the grass directly below me. Bravo, I applauded myself. I'd accomplished one hundred pushups in someone else's body! But when I tried to breathe through my nose, I realized I had a problem. You see, I got dirt in my nose. And let me tell you this: getting dirt inside your nose is _not_a nice way to end a hundred-pushup streak, especially when you're in dire need to inhale and exhale deeply.

Well, I grumbled and rushed towards the lake. I used the lake water to rinse my nose, or at least I tried to. After a few useless attempts, I decided that a relaxing steam shower would solve my "dirt" problem. Perhaps, I could use the same shower from the morning, the same one on the seventh floor. But then I sighed—and grumbled, along with a number of other things—at the complication of things. You see, I'm _very_lazy at times. I didn't want to go all the way back to the seventh floor just to clean dirt out of my nose.

So, instead of going all the way back to the boys' seventh floor bathroom, I decided to take a little swim. Taking a swim wouldn't hurt; rather, it would be refreshing and it would serve the purpose of cleaning out the dirt from my nose. Unfortunately, I was currently unaware of the lot of stalkers watching me at that very moment.

I stripped off all my clothing from my body—I took off the sticky shirt wrapped around my waist, I removed my shorts, and finally, I removed my very manly pink and yellow rubber ducky boxers—and jumped into the lake. I came up for air and sighed with bliss. The water was really nice. It was just right for the purposes of cleaning up. I plunged back into the water and let the water clean out my nose. After spending five minutes in the cool water, I walked out onto the shore and wiped myself dry with bare hands. I was about to pull on a new set of shirt and shorts from my knapsack when I heard the giggles. Girl giggles. Frap.

My head whipped towards the general direction of the giggling. I squinted my eyes and realized that a bunch of girls were watching me. Merlin was I scared out of my wits. I screamed like a little girl, which is quite embarrassing for those interested, and jumped back into the water. I shot down to the bottom and hid there for a good two minutes. Eventually, I had to come up for air. Still, I hid in the lake for a long time.

Oh Merlin. Dealing with the most-feared Dark Lord of all time was a piece of Knut. Well, for me it was. But when it came to dealing with hormonal fan girls who just saw you completely starkers: Fuck—a—you!

This was not a good way to start the first day in a parallel universe.

OoOoO

Professor McGonagall sighed as she took attendance. She looked around the rowdy and dingy Transfiguration classroom and frowned. "James Potter?" She glared at the Marauders in the corner of the classroom, expecting them to know where the boy was. "Has anyone seen James Potter?"

A few girls began to whisper intimately to one another. A couple of them colored bright pink and began to giggle at the poor boy's expense. A brave girl raised one hand to attract the teacher's attention and used the other to cover the giggles flowing out of her blushing mouth. "Professor," she squeaked out, "I might have." Despite the hand covering her mouth, an abashed giggle escaped her.

The professor sighed, more to herself. "What is the boy up to now?" She asked out loud. "What mischief has he caused now?"

The girl that had answered previously bit the inside of her cheeks. "I think he might be late to class," said the girl. The girl then turned around and winked at the group of Hufflepuff and Gryffindor girls around her. She turned back around and, with a moony smile, said, "He had a little accident this morning. He'll be alright . . . eventually." At this, the clique of girls burst out into hushed conversations.

Minerva McGonagall frowned tightly, quite not amused. "Please, class, settle down." Slowly, the noise level died out, albeit the hushed conversations in the back of the classroom by those select students who did not care much for Transfiguration class. The old witch caught sight of the confused faces of the three Gryffindor troublemakers and raised her eyebrows. That was all that was needed to force an answer out of them.

At once, Sirius Black jumped out of his seat, knocking the seat down to the floor with a loud clatter, and raised his hands high into the air. Then, at the top of his lungs, he shouted, "I didn't do it!" This produced a synchronized laugh from the rest of the class. "Ask Remus, for I plead not guilty, madam!" McGonagall chose to ignore Sirius Black. She looked at the other two troublemakers at the back of the room.

Remus Lupin looked as bored as ever and continued twirling a quill in his hand, thinking hard about something. Straight, light brown and dark blonde bangs covered most of his face, including the main feature—the tired, dark brown eyes. He didn't look up under McGonagall's stern glare, so she moved on to Peter.

Peter smacked his lips and spoke up when Remus refused to answer the teacher. "Professor," he said feebly, "I'm sure James will be here soon. When we got up this morning, he wasn't in bed. Maybe he had to go to Madame Pomfrey about his accident recovery, perhaps to get a daily checkup?"

"Yes, smart thinking there, Mr. Pettigrew," said the professor in the green vulture hat with a nod, her bun of brown hair jingling against the back of her neck. "Thank you for your honesty.

"Now, let us start off the class by reviewing for the end of the year final exams, which will start tomorrow. As you all know by now, and _should_know by now, the tests will be cumulative." She paused and looked around the classroom. Nobody was paying much attention to her words. She widened her eyes suspiciously. Not even her model student was paying much attention. "Now, can someone tell me what that means?" Still, her model student didn't look up. "Let's see, Ms. Evans?"

Lily jerked her head up, surprised that the teacher had called on her. "Um, can you please repeat the question?"

The teacher shook her head tersely. With a tone of disappointment, she said, "You should have been paying attention in class, Ms. Evans."

Lily bit her tongue. "I'm awfully sorry professor. I just had . . . _things_on my mind."

"Quite understandable," replied the Transfiguration teacher. "After all, grades aren't all that important, correct?" The professor's bitter tone struck Lily.

"I'm awfully sorry!" Lily said. She began to panic, not wanting to have upset the teacher. Of course grades were important to Lily Evans.

The professor sighed at Lily's melodramatic response. "That is quite alright. The summer heat must be getting to all of us. Prior to this, I had asked: what do I mean when I say that the final exams will be cumulative?"

Lily cleared her throat. She wanted to show McGonagall that she truly was sorry for not having paid attention and that she really did care for academics. "It means that everything we've learned since the beginning of the year, and some important things from the past two years, will be all incorporated into the test," Lily said, speaking in monotone, as if reading off of some invisible textbook. "They will not only be from this marking period, but from the previous ones as well. There's a probability that there will be sixty percent more material from this year than from the past years." She took a deep breath and looked expectantly at Professor McGonagall, who looked quite pleased.

"That was a very thorough and concise answer, Ms. Evans. Couldn't have said it better myself. Five points to Gryffindor." At this, Lily beamed with pride and blushed a bit from the praise. "Now, we all know that. . . ."

The two Hufflepuff girls sitting next to her snickered once the professor had turned back to the board. One of the girls began to mimic Lily in an uncouth manner: "There's a _probability_ of five out of five that Lily Evans has no life."

Lily flushed with anger and turned to face the board in the front of the classroom. She tried to focus on the teacher's voice, as she explained the review topics and major lessons to practice and study. But she couldn't. She was distracted.

She wasn't distracted by the mimicking that persisted for the next ten minutes. No, she was not bothered by some jealous Hufflepuff girls, for they always derided Lily. She did not care about them. No, Lily had something else on her mind. She was wondering where James Bloody Potter was. Surely, he couldn't still be outside the lake, exercising, could he be? Actually, she had been thinking about him the entire class period.

Suddenly, Lily caught her breath and starting to worry. What if Potter had fallen into the lake while exercising . . . and _drowned_? Lily's eyes widened as her heart clumped down to the size of a golf ball. What if James had injured himself and was in a current state of helplessness? Lily gulped, praying that James was alright. She didn't know why, but she prayed for his safety. She should have hated the boy. Yet, she was praying for his safe return.

Just as Lily was about to voice her obscene concern for James Potter's safety to Professor McGonagall, the side doors burst open. At once, Lily sighed contently. But, just then, the hatred she held for the boy sparked again. How dare he make her worry for him for so long? Once again, Lily Evans was cross with that Potter boy.

Harry Potter rushed in, completely out of breath. His slick, wet black hair was sticking up from all sides. He was wearing a Muggle tee-shirt and trousers, both of which had been drenched in water. He wasn't in Hogwarts attire and thus stood out from the rest of the class very prominently.

"Sorry I'm late, Professor," he said as he rushed to a vacant seat in the back. He then pretended as if nothing had happened. "Please continue with whatever you were doing, professor." He scrambled through his knapsack, ignoring the stern glare from the teacher, and took out his notebook, a green quill, and the Transfiguration textbook.

"Mr. Potter, why are you late, might I ask?" The professor asked, hands on her hips. "Why are you not wearing your uniform?"

Harry bore his eyes onto the professor's forehead for quite a while before blinking twice and turning down to keenly observe the graffiti on his desk. Keeping a calm and stone-hard exterior, he looked up and caught McGonagall's gaze once again. "Um . . . well," he said, elongating the response so he had adequate time to make an excuse, "Madame Pomfrey said that my recovery would be much better if I wore Muggle attire the entire day."

"And pray tell: where exactly have you been? Why are you wet? Do you realize that class started fifteen minutes ago?"

He licked his lips and gulped lightly, but quickly plastered on his poker face. "Madame Pomfrey did a few checks that involved my shirt getting wet. And my head was soaked in this potion to check for brain injuries and such." Lily stared at Harry with an incredulous look, wondering how he had learned to lie so well. It was an obvious white lie, but McGonagall bought it and continued her lesson. The professor had just realized that the end of class was nearing.

"Very well, please catch up with last week's lessons soon. We have finals coming up, starting tomorrow. However, you have an excuse and your exams can be delayed, if you wish to do so. If you wish, you may take your finals at a later date." Harry nodded his head. McGonagall began to pace the room and began reviewing the basic Transfiguration laws and essential transfiguration techniques and hand movements.

Harry wiped the invisible sweat off his forehead as soon as McGonagall turned her head back to the board. That had been a close call.

OoOoO

_Harry's POV_

Legilimency is brilliant! In particular: stray-thought probing. You know, for a second there, I thought that I was screwed. But, Dumbledore taught me how to detect stray thoughts—those are usually thoughts encircling one's mind unconsciously—without getting caught by the person whose mind you're reading. It's not illegal, nor is it immoral. It's just a practical method of getting out of sticky situations. By analyzing McGonagall's stray thoughts, I was able to deduce that she had related my tardiness to Madame Pomfrey. Hence, I was able to make up a valid excuse. I can't help but love that old man with a fetish for Muggle candy. Sir Dore was an amazing mentor, and he still appears to be one, albeit him being a manipulator. Ah, let's leave that out for the time being.

You know, Transfiguration is one my worst subjects, coming right after Potions in my 'All-time Atrocious Grades' Hall of Fame. It's not really my fault, though. It's just that my old wand was oriented more toward dueling and Charms work rather than Transfiguration. So, I had an affinity for those subjects, but not these ones. So, I didn't really achieve my potential in this subject. I still haven't, although I'm much better than the any of the third-years in this classroom. But still, I was mediocre at Transfiguration at best.

I mean, sure, I got an "Exceeds Expectations" on my Transfiguration OWL, but that's nothing compared to my "Outstanding" in Charms and "Overly Outstanding" in DADA. I was the top student for the DADA OWL, beating every other student in the magical world. Wow, can you believe that? But, I do owe most of the credit to Dumbledore. My private lessons with Dumbledore in my fifth and sixth years did my magic _real_ wonders. And _no_, I'm _not_ perverted, you little bastard.

Dumbledore was amazing. He taught me everything I needed to know about wandless magic—well, at least the basics. From the basics, I taught myself really. Now, I can levitate a glass of water from five feet away and will it to come to me. Oh, and also, I can tie my shoelaces without having to bend down or use my own hands. Magic! Dumbeldore was really proud of me, back then he was. You know, sometimes, I would call Dumbledore "Grandpa Dore." And then, he would call me "Harry child." And then . . . wow, that was kinda random, wasn't it?

Anyway, let's talk Dumbledore. Dumblydoor was great and all, but nobody really figured out why he was so great. Everybody called him the greatest wizard alive, but they never said why. Well, I figured out why: he was understanding and willing to help others succeed. He helped me become a stronger wizard, and he became my mentor. The most important thing I learned from him was that the complex stuff always builds on top of the simpler stuff, so once you strengthen your basic knowledge of magic, you are bound to learn, on your own, how to attain complex things. He also showed me how there's always Destiny, but no Fate, because there is a predetermined destination, but the path you follow to get to that destination is never set, for you can take a detour, take the shortest path, take the longest one, etc.

So, Dumbledore taught me a lot of stuff, and then, he later told me to figure out how to do the more complex versions of the spells on my own. He never taught me any lethal non-verbal spells, and I never did try to learn it on my own because it was too complicated and time-consuming. So, don't ask me to cast a non-verbal _Sectumsempra_ without saying it out loud. But he helped me correct my techniques. He drilled wand wrist movements into my head during our regular prep sessions in the Room of Requirement in sixth year. Now, wrist movements are sort of my second nature, my seventh sense. (My sixth sense is either my plain, sweet luck or my ability to seduce females within five easy steps.)

For example, to maximize the speed of the average stunner traveling through standard pressurized air: at seven hundred-and-sixty torr air pressure, you need to swish your wrist in a complete two-hundred-seventy degree counter-clockwise rotation before jutting the wand two centimeters forward and curving the second wrist movement in a general forty-five degree clockwise direction. Damn complicated, isn't it? Well, I learned how to do it all that on my own. And I'm damn proud of it.

Dr. Dore had me memorize _all_ the wrist movements for _each_and _every_ one of the spells in my magical hex inventory. Did you know that there are five more possible wrist movements for the regular stunner? There's a wrist flick that enhances the spell power of a stunner, a flick that enhances its accuracy, a flick that enhances its radius of impact, one that helps arc the spell, and one that can be used to help target individuals hundreds of feet away.

Bloody time-consuming, but it was all worth it. For one, it taught me not only how to massacre others, but it also taught me how to kill them in style. This one time, I _snopler_ed this Death Eater by arching my spell over a bridge, and got a headshot! It was bloody brilliant! By the way, "snopler" is a word that I made up. It means: shooting people at long distances or long range. And no, it's not _snipering_; it's _snoplering_. "Sniper" doesn't sound as awesome as "snopler." "Snopler" just rolls off your tongue better, doesn't it? Whoa . . . a bit off topic.

So my point is that . . .

"Mr. Potter! I am asking you a question!" Professor McGonagall shook me out of my pleasant daydreams. I blinked and looked up at her before quickly withering away from her evil glare. I cringed visibly. Sometimes, McGonagall looks bloody scary. "Why aren't you writing all that I said down?"

I looked up from the blank piece of parchment beneath my sweaty hands and wiped the drool from the side of my mouth. Scrambling through the Transfiguration textbook, I began jotting down the notes from the blackboard.

You know what the funny thing is? The blackboard in the front of the room was actually green, not black. So, I really don't get why it's called a blackboard even though it's green. Shouldn't it be called a "greenboard" or something? Maybe "grassboard" . . . "newboard" . . . or how about . . .

"Mr. Potter!" I yelped and jumped up in my seat. "That's the second time in a row! Stop daydreaming!"

OoOoO

Later that day, I went to Professor Dumbledore's office. We had a pleasant chat. Sort of.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" I asked, standing in the doorway. Even though Dumbledore was a grandfather to me in every way possible, I still felt a bit intimidated by the graceful magical aura that surrounded him. Oh, and also, those twinkling, warm blue eyes were a bit intimidating too. So, I couldn't help but call him "sir."

"Ah, yes, Mr. Potter." He greeted me. "Please have a seat." My old man, like the calm person he was, popped a lemon drop into his mouth. Oh, here comes the good part! Wait for it . . . wait for it . . . wait for it: "Mr. Potter, would you like a lemon toffee?"

Ha! He always asks me that question!

"No thanks, professor," I replied. I walked into the heart of the room and took the seat situated directly in front of the headmaster's desk. Sitting right next to me, I finally realized, was Nicholas Flamel. Feeling the need to do so, I said, "Hello, Mr. Flamel."

It never hurts to be polite to your elders.

"Ah, how was your day here, Mr. Potter?" asked the other old man. "I assume that everything went as planned? No problems so far, yes?" This other old man, I noted, had a rust-red untamed beard.

"No sir," I replied with a bob of my head. "No problems yet."

"Good," he muttered. He took out a quill and a notebook.

I turned my attention to Dumbledore. "So . . ."

"You are probably wondering why I have called you here, tonight," said Dumbledore, "yes, Mr. Potter?"

I grinned.

"Actually sir," I said, "I just go with the flow now. Whatever you have to say, it must be important."

"Ah, yes," the old man said. "You are correct, Harry."

I yelped and looked around the room. I wrinkled my brows and glared at Dumbledore.

"You can't do that, Professor," I hissed. "My name is James Potter right now. What if someone overhears us?"

"Do not fret," said Dumbledore, giving me his ever-so-annoying smile. "This office is quite secure, and it is warded against all types of eavesdropping spells. And, Harry, please do call me Albus."

Really, he wanted me to call him—someone who was almost a hundred years older than me—by his first name?

"Erm, sure thing, Albus," I said. At this, the headmaster beamed. "So, is there anything important going on? Or did you just want me calling you by your first name?"

He'd done that before, that bloody old coot. He'd called me to his office, during Quidditch practice, and told me that he wanted me to call him by his first name. Old coot.

"That was part of the plan," said Dumbledore, with a chuckle. "However, we have more important things to do. Let us start by figuring out a way to defeat Tom Riddle."

At least he was getting serious now. I nodded and said, "I already know what to do, sir."

"You do?" he asked with a frown.

He then proceeded to give me that "how-can-you-know-something-that-I-don't-even-know-yet?" look. I smirked back coyly. He'd only given me that look twice in my old reality. It felt good to see that look again.

"Great job, me lad," said Flamel, clapping my back, quite harshly. "I knew you were going to be a great Chosen One!"

I smiled back weakly. You know, sometimes, people can't seem to understand that I'm _not_ an inanimate object of sorts. I'm not just the Chosen One, because I have a name. It's James Potter now, but it used to be Harry Potter. So, you can't just call me: "The Chosen One." And also, even though it may seem shocking: I have feelings too. People can't just treat me like I'm something to be used; I'm no weapon. I'm not a weapon, and I certainly work for no one! I work by myself. However, let's save those rants for later, shall we?

"Yes sir," I said. I doubt either of the elderly men noted my harsh tone then, but whatever. Fawkes might have, though.

Anyway, I spent the next thirty minutes or so explaining stuff to them—basically, I told them everything I knew about hocruxes. I told them of all of the possible hocruxes that Voldemort made, too. By the end of my explanation, both of the older men had gone pale white and had cursed quite creatively at least once in Mermish, Gobbledygook, or some other odd languages that I couldn't quite catch.

"Are you saying that Tom made _six_ hocruxes?" Albus asked incredulously. "You can't be sure of this, can you? Are you positive?"

"Sir, I destroyed five of them with my own bare hands," I said. "One of them was my curse scar and the last of them is still unknown since I didn't get to destroying it."

"How did you say you destroyed these evil soul-possessed objects?" Flamel asked. Flamel had been making notes about my explanation, nonstop, on his notepad. I guess being an Unspeakable is real hard work. I could tell that Mister Flamel was very dedicated to his career. Either that, or that he was sucking up to both Dumbledore and I. But then again, he did have this weird gleam in his eyes, and I'd only seen that greedy look in the Minister's eyes before. Fucking politicians, the lot of them.

"Um, Mr. Potter? I asked a question."

I blinked twice before sheepishly saying, "Sorry sir. Could you repeat that?"

"How did you get to destroying the Hocruxes?" Flamel asked. "Surely, you cannot break it with your bare hands, can you?"

"For most of them," I said, "we, as in Professor Dumbledore and I, used the Sword of Gryffindor."

Both of the old men raised their eyebrows in synchronization. I swear, they're a bunch of weirdoes.

"Really?" Dumbledore got up and walked over to the left-most corner of his office. He dusted some sort of pedestal with the flick of his wand, he shuffled through the drawer below it, and he finally took out a long broadsword. He approached us and asked, me in particular, "You mean this one?"

He brought the sword over for us to observe more closely, and placed it on the table.

"Um, not exactly sir," I said as I scratched my head, searching for the best way to explain my fight with the Basilisk in second-year without involving a certain redhead bitch. _Oops_ . . . sorry. Language. Gotta watch my mouth more often.

"What do you mean?" Albus asked. He stroked his salt and pepper beard before eventually figuring out what I had done: "Ah . . . I see. You must have made an altercation to the original sword, am I correct?"

"Um, yes sir," I said a bit morosely this time. "In my second year, I fought a basilisk."

"Oh, dear Merlin!" said the redhead Unspeakable, his jaw dropping. "You are indeed, top notch Chosen material, Mister Potter."

"Yes . . . of course I am," I said with a frown. I brushed off Flamel's comment as nothing. "I used the sword to kill it. Basilisk venom was forever stained into the goblin steel."

You know, I'm not Chosen material sent from the heavens or something. I am human, after all, just like any other. I am unique human material made from the impregnation of an egg cell by a sperm cell. Get your facts right old coot.

"Ah, smart thinking Harry," Dumbledore said. "Basilisk venom is one of the few things that can supposedly destroy soul fragments, as can Fiendyfire."

"Yes sir" I said. I looked up at the clock in the office. It read somewhere around ten o' clock. I yawned and stretched out my arms, feigning fatigue. "It's getting quite late sir. May I leave now?"

Actually, I wasn't a bit tired. I was simply getting a bit annoyed with Flamel, but that wasn't a good excuse. And, I needed an excuse to get away.

"Yes, you must be getting tired," Albus said, with a nod. "But, before you leave, may I ask where you found basilisk venom from? Where did you fight the Basilisk?"

"Well, I got it from this very school," I replied. "I got it from the Chamber of Secrets, sir. I told you about it, remember, on my first day here."

"Really?" Flamel asked. I was scared the old man would faint. Unfortunately, he didn't, and he said, "You never cease to amaze me."

I suppressed the wrenching anger in my chest. Bitch, shut the hell up. Go kiss up to another Chosen One, will you? But, of course, there was no other Chosen One to kiss up to, now was there?

"Ah, yes. I remember now," Albus said as he rubbed his chin. He leaned back in his chair, which squeaked under the old man's weight. "But how did you enter the chamber?"

"Well, to enter it, you need to be a Parseltongue," I said, "and it turned out that I was a Parselmouth. I don't know if I still am. Nonetheless, we have to kill the basilisk and drain the venom from inside its sacks." I paused before continuing. "The Chamber is located in a deserted girls' bathroom. If you want, I can show it to you."

I made it sound so simple, didn't I? Well, to me, it _was_ quite simple.

"Perhaps some other time, okay Mr. Potter?" Albus said, giving me a warm smile.

"Um . . . yeah" I replied with a smile of my own, the polite and kind type of smile. "I guess."

"But, we shall investigate the chamber before school is over for this year," Dumbledore said with certainty. "Are you willing to lead the way some time next week? It is vital that we have basilisk venom to destroy the hocruxes before we can even go searching for the hocruxes."

"Yes sir. May I leave n—"

Flamel chuckled. "Yes, you can leave young lad. Always thinking about sleeping, aren't you? When I was your age, I use 'ter sleep in the middle of Herbology class. And . . ."

I plastered a fake smile and slowly backed away from the old man number two, without breaking eye contact. And as soon as my back touched the door, I swung around and rushed down the spiral staircase, out of the office. Honestly, I don't like hearing old people talk about their youth. Especially when these old people are greedy old bastards.

Anyway, I felt like I hadn't accomplished much that day. I marched all the way to my dormitory and jumped into bed, not bothering to change. I flipped over onto my back and stared into the moonlight shining through the windowpane. The room was empty. I'd missed dinner—excuse me: I meant, supper.

But I didn't care. I could care less. Even though I was tired, my mind was in hyper-drive mode or something. I couldn't fall asleep. And so, I did the most sensible thing a person who can't sleep does: I began to hum one of my favorite songs.

(/ A heart, \)

/ Full of pain. \

(/ A mind, \)

/ Full of horror. \

(/ A soul, \)

/ So very pure. \

/ How much more can I endure? \

And, in no time, I was fast asleep. I was in bed by nine o' clock. I don't recall how many times I repeated the song inside my head, but it was a fair amount. When I finally closed my eyes, I fell asleep, with only one thought in mind. One lonely thought, about the one bugger I still missed a lot: Teddy.

_I missed Teddy._

And a few other people too.

Just a few, though. Not that many.

OoOoO

_Unknown Location. Unknown Muggle Neighborhood in England._

The petite, malnourished dirty blonde-haired girl whimpered as she sat down onto the dusty hardwood floor. She was locked away in the attic, _again_. She had no provisions for the night. No food. No clothing. No water. Not even a place to urinate in. Nothing. Nothing at all. But that was fine.

The burn marks that her relatives had made on her soft, pale skin earlier that evening were still fairly fresh and very prominent under the dim moonlight, the very same moonlight that now filtered through the only small window in the attic. Her ragged clothing was two sizes too big on her, but that was okay. She was barefooted, her hands and feet rough from walking around the house without protection too often, but that was alright. The small and thin digits of her hands were bruised, her fingernails mutilated at the most obscure angles, but that was fine.

_Actually_, no it wasn't. No, it wasn't _okay_. It wasn't _alright_. It wasn't _fine_.

The girl sniffled as she touched her burn marks. She wished for them to go away. A sob escaped her lips. She willed them to vanish on the spot. She hoped for the pain to go away. The girl began to wail, and she wailed some more. And she continued to wail, until her thin limbs could no longer support her body weight. And, after crying away most of the pain, she clattered to the ground, and lay there motionless.

It was _not _alright. _Definitely not._

Every now and then, a sob escaped her throat and would shake her entire body. And every now and then, the girl would tilt her head up towards the glistening full moon. And every now and then, the girl would pray. She would pray for the pain to end.

The girl's once-vivacious milk chocolate brown eyes now reflected deep sorrow. They signified depression, hopelessness, discontent, misfortune, and disappointment.

It really was not okay.

After what seemed like hours—but, was in reality, only fifteen minutes—the girl opened her mouth and stared at the imaginary angel on her right shoulder. She whimpered before croaking a single word.

Just one word, that's all.

It was a word that can be interpreted in many ways, often in wrong ways than in right. It was a word that is meaningless, if not related to some wild emotion. It was a simple word, really. It was a word that holds much power. It was a word that is meaningless, yet it is full of so much meaning. So much meaning that . . . it was a paradox.

The only word that she could possibly utter.

The girl, she whimpered, "Please."


	5. The Quill in Question

_**Disclaimer**_: Harry Potter and any such related characters/symbols/ideas/etc. are in direct correlation to J.K. Rowling as of the year 2011.

* * *

**The Quill in Question**

* * *

_Harry's POV_

I began to _loudly_ munch on the fresh apple in my hand, hoping that the stupid girls would just leave me a_lone_. I went to the Great Hall to have a little breakfast. I was hoping not to draw too much attention to myself. And you know what happened next? Before I knew it, there was a line of girls asking me to teach them how to _swim_. R_iiiii_ght. S_wim_ . . . _really_?

"Are you sure you don't need company in the water? I could . . . _help_ you." The brunette flashed a cheeky smile and straightened the creases in her shirt, making sure to expose more cleavage than was necessary. I scratched my nose – which the girls found _cute –_ and registered the batch of babes in front of me into my wank bank for later.

I looked at the girls once more and timidly shied away from their predatory gazes. I sighed slightly, feeling a tad bit _peculiar_. I've been accosted by girls before, mind your troll snot, but this was different. V_ery_ different. You see, all of the girls I encountered that morning just so happened to be adults that I had come to know very well in my past life.

"Well," I scratched the side of my head, "I already took a dip in the lake this morning. I'm not going anywhere near it anytime soon. Maybe some other time?" I smiled politely and turned to face the empty platter on the Gryffindor table. I focused very hard on the lone spoon placed next to a half-filled bowl of porridge, not wanting to get anymore attention from my harassers.

The black-haired Ravenclaw purred behind me and stroked the sides of my shoulder blades, probably hoping to get some sort of submissive reaction out of me. Unfortunately, I shivered at the touch of her cool, slender fingers. Fortunately for me, she didn't notice it. "What about tomorrow?" She wrapped both of her arms tenderly around my waist and rested her chin on my right shoulder, much to the resentment of my other fan girls.

I sighed and gently pushed her head away from near proximity. I'm a bit reserved and wary when it comes to any sort of interaction with the other gender. Anyone want to take three guesses as to _why_?

"I'm going to have to turn down your _generous _offer this time, milady. I often get more workouts done alone than with someone else around watching me. Once again, t_hank_ you, but no thanks." I replied as politely as possible. Damn my chivalrousness!

Andromeda Black pouted huskily and tried again. "Come on, sweetheart. A swim across the lake won't hurt. I'll make sure to wear my best bikini outfit, j_ust_ for _you_." After years of experience, I learned that that's codename for: I'll wear my most revealing outfit in hopes that you will take me to a fucking broom cupboard and ARGH!

"No." I growled _politely_, extremely frustrated. "Do you want me to spell out the word? N – O!" Seeing the look of hurt on the girl, I apologized. "Look, I'm not interested in any girls right now, so _please_ leave me alone. If I do start thinking about dating, I'll give you a chance, okay?"

The girl nodded and leaned forward to peck my cheek. Now, a peck on the cheek doesn't mean much and shouldn't mean anything really, but it made me blush. Unfortunately, Andromeda noticed and winked, causing me to turn a slightly darker shade of red.

The feel of the girl's soft lips against my skin made me s_hive_r. The reason being? Well, I haven't kissed a girl in like . . . bloody two years! Yeah, that's about right. The awesome Harry Potter hasn't had a make-out session with another girl in almost two years . . . maybe even more!

So naturally, the kiss made me all giddy. But personally, I blame it all on James Potter's uncontrollable adrenaline and male teenage hormones. None of this was my fault. Nothing ever was. Nothing ever should have been. But I like being modest and blame myself for the mistakes of humanity. I'm just that type of guy.

To my relief, Andromeda left without any further flirtations, as did most of the stalkers. And as if on queue, Sirius, Peter, and Remus marched into the Great Hall side by side. They approached my vicinity and gave me questioning looks before sitting down across from me.

I smiled and ushered them to start their breakfast. And for once in my lifetime, I had a normal, carefree conversation. We talked about Quidditch, pranks, and girls. For the rest of the day, I felt like a normal teenage wizard. Or as normal as I could get.

* * *

"Brilliant day, isn't it James?" Sirius piped up before stuffing a handful of cornbread into his mouth. He had the latest issue of PlayWizard magazine in his left hand.

"Yes, brilliant," mumbled Peter. "It's finals' week. How _exciting_, isn't it?" Peter took out his Transfiguration textbook and began to do any last-minute prepping.

Remus grinned. "Well, you should have studied last week when I told you to." Remus spread marmalade onto his toast and begun to munch merrily. "I'm not the slightest worried."

"How can you be so calm about finals?" Peter turned towards Sirius, who continued to look through his magazine. "Eh, Sirius? You listening?"

"Exams?" Sirius looked up from his magazine and rolled his eyes. "They're a snap of beans! What exams do we have today, anyways?"

"Transfiguration." Peter bitterly remarked. "My worst subject." Remus got up to retrieve a glass of orange juice, a small smile plastered on his sprightly face.

Sirius grinned. "Well, that exam will be fairly simple. Transfiguration is all about intent. Just mumble something intelligent and will for the object to change into the desired substance, and there you go! Pretty neat trick, isn't it? And just memorize the Laws of Transfiguration."

Harry hummed in agreement but said nothing, not knowing how to get involved into the conversation without sounding awkward.

"Say James, you've been awfully quiet. Something wrong?"

Harry bit his lip before replying. "I'm okay." So much for a conversation.

"Say, how's your healing process going?" Before Harry could reply, Remus came back with a basket of fruits. He handed each of them a banana, a green apple, and a peach. "What's this, Remus?"

"They say," Remus peeled his banana and bit into it, "that eating at least three types of different fruits before an exam helps you focus on it better."

"Well, _they_ are obviously barmy." Sirius grudgingly took his friend's advice. "So, how's your head? It seems to have shrunken as a result of the Quidditch accident. You didn't lose some of your cleverness, did you James?"

"Nah," Harry grinned. "I'm doing pretty good. In fact, I think those buldgers knocked some sense into me. I feel better than ever."

Peter continued to furiously scan the chapter summaries.

"There's no point in cramming, mate." Remus patted Peter on his back. "You'll do fine. Relax."

"Yeah," Sirius thumped his own chest with closed fists. "We have more important things to focus on."

"Such as?" Peter began to memorize last-minute wrist movements.

"Don't tell me you forgot, Pete." Sirius groaned dramatically. He took out his wand and cast a Silencing Charm. "The end of term prank! You know, the one we do _every_ year? The grand finale?"

"Grand finale?" Harry's head perked up at the mention of pranks. This would be interesting.

"Not you too, mate. Don't tell me you forgot about our annual end-of-the-year prank _finale_!"

"I . . . erm . . . Quidditch accident. I forgot." Harry muttered.

"Oh, right, sorry. Well, to jog up your memory, we do pranks every year. But at the end of each year, we do one final biggie to show the true wrath of the Marauders! Anyways, do you have any ideas about what we should do this year? We need a game plan. And the end of the school year is coming up really soon. I want to leave our third year with a blast!"

"That's what you said last year, Sirius." Remus snickered and grabbed another random fruit from the basket. He consciously looked over at the other end of the Gryffindor table and gave a discreet, goofy grin.

"Yeah, well, the third year prank is going to be even better than last year. What should we do?"

Remus turned back towards the group of Marauders and shrugged. "We could charm the Slytherins to sing some embarrassing carols or something."

"No no no. It has to be something _big_. Something that affects_ all of us_. Something _remarkable_!"

"What about charming the ceiling to make it rain inside of the Great Hall?" Harry casually suggested.

"Charm the ceiling?" Sirius frowned. His frown turned into an evil smirk. "That's . . . a splendid idea! But how?"

Remus examined the idea with speculation. "We can_ try_ to do that. I don't know how that would work, though."

"I do," Harry couldn't help blurt out.

"Really?" Sirius looked at Harry with a desperate gleam in his eyes.

"Yeah . . . the Room of Requirement has a place that allows you manipulate the central mechanisms of Hogwarts castle."

"The Room of Requirement?" Remus frowned. "What's that?"

"Oh . . . it's this . . . uhh . . . room I found the other day. It provides you with any ideal room that you have in mind. It's the Heart of Hogwarts."

"Why didn't you tell us about it earlier?" Remus looked at Harry doubtfully.

"Erm . . . well . . . I forgot?"

"Gee, you seem to be forgetting a lot of things lately. Next thing you know, he'll forget that he was ever in love with Lily Evans." Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Um . . . yeah." Harry shifted uncomfortably under Remus's keen eyes. "So, is that a good idea?"

"It's pretty swell." Remus shrugged. "We'll talk more about it later, I suppose. I'll add in a few personal touches, and then hand the game plan over to Peter. Then, we'll put some final touches on it as a group the day before the last day on the usual fourth floor Marauder hideout. Okay?"

"Wow, that's a lot of planning." Harry let out a low whistle.

"Well, pranking isn't as easy as it seems. And that's why we're best at what we do." Sirius canceled the Silencing Charm.

"Well, I'll see you guys later. I've got to catch up on . . . stuff." Remus's cheeks reddened as he got up and left the Great Hall alone, too swiftly as a matter of fact.

Sirius frowned. "Did Remie just abandon us?"

Harry shrugged. "He had to do stuff."

Sirius looked back at Harry with an incredulous look. "But that violates the Marauder Code of Brotherhood, Section Seven."

"There's a Marauder code of rules?"

"Not really." Sirius grinned sheepishly. "But there _is_ a Bro Code."

"Bro Code? What's that?"

"Oh come on mate! You forgot about the Bro Code too?"

"Sorry." Harry gave Sirius a pointed glare. "Is it my fault that I fell off my broom?"

Sirius sighed. "The Bro Code is a series of complicated rules and laws set in place by the Marauders for the rest of the male population of Hogwarts to follow. By following the disciplinary Bro Code, we avoid quarrels over girls and all sort of teenage trouble. But that's beside the point. Where did Remus go? It's almost time for the Transfiguration final. Why the hell was he in such a hurry?"

"Maybe he had to go to the restroom or something."

"Yeah right. Not likely. I heard he has a very durable bladder."

"What the hell is a durable bladder?"

Sirius groaned. "Mate, you've _lost_ it. You'll never be the same again."

"Shut up," Harry smiled and punched Sirius's shoulder.

Professor Dumbledore got up from the staff table and waved a gold spoon in the air. The room silenced at once. "Attention please. We shall now administer the Transfiguration finals, the OWLs, and arrange the NEWTs. All fifth years shall remain in the Great Hall to take their Transfiguration OWLs, which will start in twenty minutes. NEWT students will take their NEWTs in the Great Hall promptly at two o'clock in the afternoon, after the OWLs have been administered.

"All other students will be taking finals in their designated rooms. Your Head of the House shall go around to give the other years their designated rooms right about _now_."

* * *

_Harry's POV_

"Why did they split us up!" Sirius groaned as the both of us climbed up the magical moving staircase. "It's not like we were going to cheat off of one another!"

"I don't know." I frowned as I caught a few portraits leering at me with distrust. Isn't it a bit odd having portraits of old, medieval folk staring at you? I don't know, maybe it's just me. I looked back at Sirius and addressed his earlier concerns about the Marauders getting split up for the finals. "Maybe it was a coincidence."

"A _coincidence_?" Sirius scoffed. "Of course it was a coincidence that they split the four of us up into different testing rooms. Say, which room do you have to go to again?"

"Um," I took out my rumpled-up schedule. "I have to go the the far east room on the sixth floor."

"Damn," he mumbled, blowing a few strands of thick bangs away from his forehead. "I'm two floors below you! And Peter's on the second floor!"

"Does it matter where we're situated in the castle? It's just a test."

"Just a test?" Sirius's eyes widened. "Just. A. _Test_?"

"Yeah . . . it's just a test. Nothing big." Hadn't Sirius shrugged off tests as no big deal earlier?

"You're usually having nervous breakdowns before tests, mate." He clarified. "Why the sudden change?" He squinted his eyes in feigned anger. "Have you been _studying_?"

"Um . . . no?" Harry grinned sheepishly.

"If I catch you studying," Sirius warned, "there will be seriously _dire_ consequences young man."

I grinned. "I promise to never study, Mr. Black." And it was true, in a sense. Having taken all my OWLs and final exams already, I didn't have to worry much about the current material.

"That's more like it. Now go there and show them what the Marauders are made of!" Sirius saluted me and got off on the fourth floor. "Don't disappoint us. We have a legacy to live up to! But don't score too high or our reputation will be smashed into bits and pieces!"

"Sure," I rolled my eyes and quickly made my way to the sixth floor. Upon reaching the small classroom situated in the deserted sixth floor hallway, I cautiously opened the door.

As soon as I entered the small classroom, I knew something was wrong. There were only nine other students present. Eight of them were girls, one of them was a chubby bloke. Mr. Flitwick was administering our exam.

I slowly made my way towards the back of the room and took the last seat in the second row of desks. I noted that Jessica Lancaster was seated directly to my right. And you the best part? Lily Evans was in front of me!

I gulped as Lily gave me a suspicious glare. Jessica blushed as I turned to face her and gave me a small wave.

Damn.

Dumbledore doesn't know when to stop, does he? Did he purposely put me in a classroom full of girls?

* * *

_Lily's POV_

I couldn't believe my eyes. Well, I kind of had already guessed something like this would happen. But who would have ever guessed that Potter, out of all people, would be placed in the same testing room as me? In a room full of girls no less. And the worst part is that he took a seat directly behind me! The nerve of him! I mean, it wasn't his fault that there were no other seats available, but _still._

"What the hell are you doing here?" I turned to face him and hissed, throwing him a stern glare.

"Um . . . I'm here to take a test?" He scratched his nose. Apparently, he's been doing that a lot lately. And other girls actually find that _adorable_. I mean, _really_? I'll admit that he's very ripped (don't you dare tell anyone that I said that!), but saying that his nose is cute is just off the charts. Why am I talking about James Potter in the first place? Ugh! No matter where I go, Potter somehow always manages to squiggle into my complicated teenage life.

"Yeah, right." I sniffed, angry at him for no particular reason. I guess I'm just determined to dislike him. "Try not to disturb the rest of us while we take the exam."

"Erm . . . right. Sure thing." He replied uncertainly.

I frowned at his perplexed facial expression. Why has Potter been acting so weirdly lately? He just doesn't seem like the same James Potter to me anymore. He's really _likable_ nowadays.

"Yeah," I remarked back lamely, "you'd better." I turned to face the front of the classroom and took out my writing utensils, ready to take the test.

"The test will start in exactly one minute. You have seventy-eight minutes to complete the written part." Professor Flitwick, the test administer, went to the front of the classroom and adjusted the large hourglass. He swished his wand in our direction. In just seconds, the test papers flew onto each separate desk and the hourglass flipped over. "Begin!" The grains of sand begin to pour down, marking the start of the exam.

I immediately rushed to open the test booklet. I filled out my name and all required information on the back of the front page. I flipped to the next page and was about to start with the first question when _someone_ tapped my right shoulder.

James Bloody Potter tapped my shoulder in the middle of an examination! That rag of a toe! Did he _want_ the both of us to fail our Transfiguration finals?

"_Psst_. Lily." He tapped my shoulder again. I shrugged his hand off, hoping that he would bugger off. Unfortunately, Potter can be very insistent about things. "Lily!"

"What?" I whispered back harshly, making sure that Flitwick didn't see our little interaction. "We're both going to be disqualified if you continue to fool around. Leave me alone!" I turned back my attention on the first question.

"It's im-_por_-tant!" He whispered. "Please?"

I looked up at the front of the classroom. Flitwick was reading some sort of ambient Charms magazine. He seemed too distracted and hadn't noticed the small talk between Potter and I. Taking my chances, I quickly turned to face Potter again. "What is it? Hurry up."

"I need a quill to write with."

"You came to take an exam without one?" I rolled my eyes skeptically.

"Mine just broke." He held up a green quill. Its nib was indeed dented. "So, can I borrow one?"

"No," I plainly stated and turned back to answering the first question. I began to scribble down my train of thought for the first question.

"Please?" He tapped my left shoulder this time. How much more annoying can he get?

"No," I hissed from the corner of my mouth. "Ask someone else."

"I don't know anyone else. Please Lily?" He tapped both of my shoulder simultaneously.

I sighed, too loudly, and turned around, not noticing the teacher's eyes on me. "No Potter. You obviously want to "borrow" one of my quills, charm it, and play some sort of wicked prank on me. Not happening on my watch!" I turned back around brashly. In my carelessness, I knocked over my knapsack. All my books, papers, quills, and bottles of ink clattered to the ground. I quickly bent down to the floor and began to put the things back into my bag.

"Is there a problem?" Professor Flitwick finally caught up with the commotion in the back. He walked down the aisle and looked me in the eye. "You aren't cheating, are you Ms. Evans?"

"Professor," I gulped. "I-I was just. . . ." I started to panic. "I swear I wasn't –"

The professor gave me a pained look. Did he honestly think I had been cheating? How could he accuse _me_ of cheating? I don't need to cheat!

"It looked to me as if you had been conversing with Mr. Potter back there. I'm afraid that I'm going to have to take fifteen points off of your final score." My eyes widened with shock as he brought out an official, teachers' red quill. I watched as he scribbled something on the front of my booklet. "Please do not attempt to cheat again, or it will be an automatic zero. And please close your bag and place it under the desk where I can see it."

"But-but . . . it wasn't even my fault." I stuttered, unable to see clearly. I hadn't even gotten past the first question and already, my raw score was somewhere around an eighty-five percent! All because of Potter!

"Actually sir," Potter spoke up from behind me. The both of us turned to face him. "I just asked her for a quill. Mine broke."

Flitwick frowned. "Why didn't you just raise your hand and ask to borrow one?"

"I though it'd be better to just ask Lily, considering how close she was to me. And I didn't want to disturb you, sir. You seemed to be engaged in your magazine."

"That's very thoughtful of you," The Charms professor nodded. He conjured a quill and handed it to Potter. "Here. Return it to me at the end of the examination."

"Thank you sir. I appreciate it."

"No problem. Continue your exam." The professor turned towards me. "And, there is still the matter of the bag. I am obligated to deduct points because you clearly had loose pieces of paper out during the examination. Please do not open the bag again." The stout, half-goblin teacher walked back to the front of the classroom and began to read his Charms magazine again.

I growled. How had Potter _not_ gotten in trouble? Why did I get blamed for his insolence?

I clenched my fist and continued to work on the rest of the exam. At the moment, I really loathed James Potter. After a difficult seventy five and a half minutes, the Charms professor raised his hand and collected the papers.

"The test is now complete. You may take the rest of the day off to study for your other finals. Have a nice day." He reset the hourglass. Everyone began to pack up. I shuffled through my bag and stuffed in my quill and utensils.

"Hey, Lily. Look, I'm sorry about the –"

"Drop it. Just get away from me. As far away as from me as possible." I clenched my teeth and slung my bag over my shoulder.

"Wait, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" I gave an irritated chuckle. "Well, sorry won't get me back my fifteen points, you know that?"

Potter looked down at the floor. He actually seemed embarrassed by his actions. But that wasn't possible, was it? Was it possible for the arrogant Potter to show embarrassment?

"Look, I'll just talk to the professor and get this sorted out."

"Yeah. You do that." I rolled my eyes skeptically. I turned on my toes to stalk away but stopped. "You know what?" I smirked as I turned to face him. "You do that right now. I'll watch." I thought it would be amusing to see Potter actually confess his mistakes to the teacher. And I didn't really expect him to stick to his word. I thought that he would chicken his way out of the situation. But like I said earlier, he's gotten very strange lately.

"Sure." He shrugged noncommittally. He grabbed his stuff and headed towards Flitwick.

"Wait," I rushed forwards and grabbed his shoulder As soon as my fingers came in contact with his shoulder, I felt a tingle run through my wrist, down my forearm, and up to my neck. I shivered as he turned to face me. I was rendered speechless for a while.

"Yeah?" He ran a slow hand through his sleek black hair. Wait, since when was his hair _sleek_? "Don't you want me to clear up the misconception so you can get your points back?"

"Y-you're actually going to do it?" I gaped slightly before biting my lips together.

"Yeah. Watch." An adorable smile played on his lips as he paced up to the professor and caught his attention. I watched adeptly, entranced by his new likeable attitude. "Um, Professor. Can I have a word with you?"

The short teacher looked up from his magazine. His flaky white hair jingled as he looked from me to James. "Yes, Mr. Potter? Was there some sort of mistake on the test?"

"Um, nothing like that sir. Actually, it was about Lily's paper. She wasn't attempting to cheat off of me. I had asked her for a quill and she simply refused profusely. I don't think you did her justice by deducting fifteen points from her paper. And she certainly wasn't using her bag to cheat."

"Well, one of the two of you has to take the blame. You both interrupted the class. Either way, there is a penalty and I cannot do anything about it." My face fell upon realizing that I wouldn't be getting any of my lost points back. But then again, at least Potter had tried. And for some reason, that made me happy.

"Well, I'll take the blame then." James shrugged. "You can transfer the loss of points from Lily's exam to mine. It was all really my fault, not hers. Her grade shouldn't suffer because of me." I frowned as I processed what James had said.

"Are you sure about this?" The Charms professor shuffled through the pile of exam booklets and specifically took out two of them, one of which I recognized as mine. The other must have been James's.

"Yeah, no big deal. Do it." James cracked his right knuckles as he shuffled his feet.

"Wait a second. . . ." I wondered out aloud. Before I could say anything else, the professor took his red quill and crossed out the red markings on my booklet. In just seconds, the red marking transferred over to James's test booklet. I stood there in shock as the professor put away our tests back into the pile.

"Have a good day, Mr. Potter and Ms. Evans."

"You too, Professor." James gave a polite nod before turning to face me. Like any reasonable person, I continued to gape.

"Y-y-you . . . b-but. . . ."

"See, that wasn't hard at all." He gave off another adorable smile. He frowned before bringing up his hand to close my open mouth. His fingers brushed against my cheeks as he lightly closed my jaw. "You look better with your mouth closed by the way."

After getting over the initial shock of Potter actually standing up for me, I formed a clear thought. "That was very . . . erm . . . nice of you." I blushed and felt the heat in my face rise. "Thanks."

"No problem. And like I said, it was my fault from the beginning."

"But . . . your test? You lost . . . fifteen points. You could have split up the lost points. This way, you . . . wouldn't have lost as many."

"Eh," he shrugged. "It's just a test grade. Not the end of my life."

"R-right." I nodded firmly. "I'd better get . . . going . . . to the common room." My shoulder sagged as I cushioned the strap of my bag onto it.

He held out his hands and took a hold of my bag. "You want me to walk you back to the common room?" I don't know why but I let him take my bag.

"Erm . . . thanks." I cracked a shaky smile as he gestured for me to exit the classroom. I blushed and led the way out of the testing room. I looked back at him and noted his grim yet serene and polite facial demeanor. I also caught sight of his nose. Apparently, he _does _have an adorable nose. And really pretty eyelashes. "You have pretty eyelashes." I blurted out, and then blushed and quickened my pace in embarrassment.

I looked back and waited for him to react. He didn't. He just shrugged. "Thanks. I guess?"

"Yeah," I breathed out as I caught sight of his beautiful blue-green eyes. I had always thought that they were more of a hazel blue, but never actually examined them closely.

We walked together in silence, passing some students in the corridor. Finally, we reached the Gryffindor common room. I turned around and looked up at him expectantly. He slowly handed me my bag back.

"Thank you." I managed to whisper gently.

James smiled and brushed off my kind words. "No problem. Anytime, milady." He awkwardly bit the inside of his cheek and turned away. I watched him disappear from sight.

You know, the next time he asks me for a bloody quill, I'm definitely going to give it to him.


	6. Secrets of a Chamber

**ζ**_This means Parseltongue_**ζ**

* * *

Secrets of a Chamber of a Chamber of Secrets

_Harry's POV_

After the bloody Transfiguration test, I walked Lily back to the common room. She seemed to be struggling carrying her bag around. So I offered to carry it for her. After dropping Lily off at the common room, I descended the stairs and headed towards Grandpa Dore's office.

Many of the other students were rushing about to study for their Charms finals. I, on the other hand, didn't need to. I decided to discuss the Chamber of Secrets with Dumbledore while I waited to take the examination.

**ζ**_Open, please_**ζ** I spoke to the gargoyle guarding the office in a hushed whisper. Immediately, the black gargoyle jumped back and let me pass through. Apparently, I am still a Parselmouth. I have no idea why though. I don't have that scar anymore and the hocrux should have been destroyed when Voldie Locks shot me with the killing curse last time. But I guess some things last forever.

I ascended the spiral office and turned the knob without hesitation. I opened the door and let myself in. I took a seat in front of Dumb Le Dore's grand desk. His intricately incisive desk was layered with weird trinkets and silver gadgets. I watched this particular silver pyramid hover above some sort of golden liquid for quite a while.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. What a pleasant surprise." I looked up and saw the old man dressed up in multicolored robes walk in from a side door. "I just finished taking a nap. They say that taking a nap in the afternoon is good for your health."

I nodded. "Yes, sir."

He frowned deeply before taking a seat behind the desk. "Please, Harry. I have told you many times. Call me Albus."

"Can I call you Dore instead?" I smiled awkwardly. I used to call him 'Grandpa Dore' all the time in my past life.

He scratched his grizzly white beard. "I would be more than honored." He leaned back on his chair. "What brings you to my office, Mr. Potter? I would have assumed that you would be studying for your Charms final this afternoon. Or perhaps even playing some Quidditch as a sort of distraction from all these stressful exams."

"I came to talk to you about the sword." Dumbledore's face grew serious. "I'm still a Parselmouth. I can guide the both of us into the chamber tonight. From there, we can collect basilisk venom and soak the sword inside of it. Using the sword, we will be able to destroy hocruxes easily."

"Will we need special equipment to handle the venom? I don't believe that I have any such equipment on me as of now."

"I don't think we will need anything. There are a few special bottles in Slytherin's storage room inside the chamber. And there's gloves and all equipment already present in Slytherin's personal sitting room. We won't need much."

"Ah, I see." The headmaster got up and charmed his colorful robes into an elegant navy blue.

"So . . . we do the mission today? I'm ready for it."

"Yes, after you have finished your Charms final, you may return to my office. We shall depart then." Albus Dumbledore smiled back. "_However_, remember this: let us proceed with _caution_."

. . .

The young girl stirred on the cold stone floor. Her eyes were closed tightly. She shivered in her sleep and rubbed both shoulders with firm petite hands. Finally, the girl opened her eyes and scanned the area around her. She frowned deeply upon catching sight of the torchlit walls. This was certainly not the attic that she had gone to sleep in, was it?

The girl sat up on the white stone floor cross-legged and worriedly ingested the environment around her. A tad bit confused, she hurriedly pushed herself up onto her feet. She swayed on the spot but managed to stand upright. The girl's teeth chattered as she inhaled the surrounding stingy, dense, and cool air. She exhaled slowly. Even in the dimly-lit room, her warm breath was slightly visible.

The seven-year-old girl's sad blue eyes began to wander the empty cold room aimlessly. She tried to figure out where she was. She glanced up at the ceiling and gasped in awe. This new room was at least ten times larger than the usual attic that she had slept inside of.

How had she gotten here in the first place? Was she inside of a dream? She liked dreams. Dreams were certainly better than reality.

The girl's eyes wandered some more before landing upon on the sight of a humongous statue of a snake. Naturally, the little girl screamed out of sheer terror and sprinted in the other direction, only to run into a closed door with embossed pictures of even more snakes. The girl screamed once again and collapsed to the ground. She began to sob, hoping that the snakes would not hurt her.

Finally, after a few minutes of silence, the girl looked back at the statue of the snake. She sighed with relief. She realized that the snake would _not_ cause her any harm. The girl smacked her dry lips and looked around for any source of water, preferably clean water. She found, at the far right of the room, a large pool of dirty sewer water. She gave a raspy cough before resting the side of her head on the cold stone floor. After all the hardships she had faced in life, the girl readily accepted this new obstacle without much hesitation.

Just as she was about to drift off to unconsciousness again, the door behind her opened, revealing two figures: an old man and a young black-haired teenager. The older man was holding a wooden stick in between his thumb and forefinger. The end of the stick was pointed up towards the ceiling. The tip of the stick was brightly illuminated by a white orb of light.

The young girl quietly whimpered, with what little energy was left in her poor soul, and quickly skidded away from the two elder figures. Who were these strangers? Were they here to hurt her?

The old man stopped in his tracks and looked directly at the girl. "Um . . . Mister Potter?"

The boy didn't seem to have noticed the girl. "And the Chamber of Secrets also houses Slytherin's personal dueling arena. There's also a secret passage in here to the far left that leads to the Ravenclaw _and_ the Slytherin common rooms directly. So, you can already imagine –"

"Mis-mister Potter." The older man shook the young man's shoulder vigorously with his left hand, keeping his eyes trained on the little girl. "I presume that –"

"Will you let me finish? You were the one who asked me to be your personal _guide_ in the first place. It's only polite to let me finish explaining everything before interrupting, _sir_."

"I shall let you finish your tale. However, just for the record, was that girl," the old man pointed towards the young girl in tattered clothes, "there in the chamber originally? Is she part of the decorum? She doesn't _seem_ like a statue to me."

"What _girl_, sir? I already told you that this chamber probably hasn't been opened for years. How can a little _girl_ be in here? You're being ridiculous. I mean seriously, what are the chances of finding a single living soul in _here_?" The young man scoffed before turning to face the hysterical girl. He instantly recoiled harshly and jumped back two feet. He gaped for a while before muttering, "Holy shit."

. . .

_Harry's POV_

I led Grandpa Dore to the second-floor girls' bathroom at around seven o'clock that evening. We met a few obstacles along the way. Most of them happened to be females in desperate want of my undergarments. My very manly pink and yellow rubber ducky boxers had become rather famous amongst the Hogwarts female population. But they left us alone. The sole presence of an elderly magician as old as Dumbledore will scare _anyone_ away.

Upon reaching the bathroom, Dumbledore cast some nice 'Notice Me Not' and 'Do Not Enter' warding charms to drive away any wanderers. After properly securing the site, I moved to the middle of the bathroom. I walked up to the most out-of-place sink and whispered, **ζ**_Open_**ζ**

The sink cleared away, leaving behind a dark and narrow hole.

"Interesting," the headmaster circled around the bizarre trap door. "Very cleverly devised. Should we jump down this narrow opening? Is it safe?"

"Well, you can always do that. But why go through all that trouble when you can use the express lift?" I stepped back from the narrow opening and knelt on the filthy bathroom floor. I brushed my fingers against the porcelain tiles and easily located the deformed one from the batch. I pressed my hand atop the tile and hissed, **ζ**_Activate_**ζ**

The original opening began to rumble and widened in size. From below, a low buzzing could be heard. A magically-maneuvered lift slowly hovered up from deep below and appeared in the place of the sink.

"That is extraordinary technology." The headmaster admired the work of Salazar Slytherin. "Shall we use this lift to enter the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Precisely." I nodded and opened the lift door. We entered the lift together and held onto its flimsy sides. I hissed, **ζ**_Activate_**ζ** The lift started up and the doors closed shut, locking securely into place.

The headmaster frowned and studied the doors with much interest. I rolled my eyes. "Don't worry, they'll open up again." I grinned at my own little inside joke.

He nodded bemusedly and muttered, "Fascinating technology."

Suddenly, the lift lurched downwards at an incredible speed.

"You seem to know about the many hidden secrets of the Chamber of Secrets. Perhaps, you can enlighten me with some of your knowledge. Can you, act as the guide for the day?"

I grinned. I had ventured the entirety of the Chamber of Secrets in my sixth year. Of course I knew it inside and out. "Well," I began. "For starters, there's a library of books on almost every topic known to wizardkind. Readers can learn how to go about brewing the strongest love potion in the _world._They can learn all that is known about the two hundred unique sex positions. Miscellaneous stuff like that." I watched with amusement as the headmaster simply nodded along with the information I spewed at him. "Then, there's the personalized swimming pool. It's filled with all sorts of mechanisms to enhance your experience in the water. There's also a whole section on Muggle technology, which is quite ironic since Slytherin despised Muggles, which is a whole different story for another time.

"There's also a music room. It turns out that Slytherin was a splendid composer. He constructed an indestructible, magical acoustic guitar for himself. I used to call it the Guitar of Slytherin. The green instrument matches quite nicely with the Sword of Gryffindor, as a matter of fact."

The lift finally stopped moving and the doors slid open. I led the way towards the entrance gate. One final time, I hissed, **ζ**_Open_**ζ**

I closed my eyes and began to waft in the familiar smell of the chamber as the gates creaked open on their own. It brought back painful memories. In a robotic monotone, I walked over to the right, where I knew that a torch was located. I raised my hand and hissed, **ζ**_Brighter_**ζ**

I turned back towards the headmaster, who lit up his wand with a simple _Lumos_charm."And the Chamber of Secrets also houses Slytherin's personal dueling arena. There's also a secret passage in here to the far left that leads to the Ravenclaw _and_ the Slytherin common rooms directly. So, you can already imagine –"

"Mis-mister Potter." I saw a horrified look in his eyes. I frowned. "I presume that –"

"Will you let me finish? You were the one who asked me to be your personal _guide_ in the first place. It's only polite to let me finish explaining everything before interrupting, _sir_." I shook my head in a sarcastic manner, making sure to roll my eyes. And why was he so horrified? Did it really smell that bad inside the chamber?

"I shall let you finish your tale. However, just for the record, was that girl," the old man pointed towards something over my shoulder, "there in the chamber originally? Is she part of the decorum? She doesn't _seem_ like a statue to me."

She? Who was _she_? Suddenly, memories of a girl came back. Memories of a redhead. A redhead whom I deeply despised! I panicked and my breath hitched. I wasn't ready to turn around to face whomever was behind me.

"What _girl_, sir?" I gulped. "I already told you that this chamber probably hasn't been opened for years. How can a little _girl_ be in here? You're . . . being . . . ridiculous! I mean seriously, what are the chances of finding a single living soul in _here_?" I scoffed uncertainly, not wanting to believe that a young girl was present in the chamber.

I slowly turned around to face a heap of . . . _something_. I frowned and focused on _it_. Upon realizing that the heap of 'something' was actually alive, I jumped back and shrieked.

A girl with alluring milk chocolate brown eyes and frizzy, dirty blonde hair stared back at me. She whimpered and buried her head onto the cold, stone floor of the Chamber of Secrets. Her eyes demonstrated a tired helplessness. The same look that reflected back into my own eyes when I often looked myself in the mirror. And then, she passed out.

"Holy shit," I muttered loudly as I practically ran towards the young girl in the middle of the chamber. I knelt down and instantly searched for a pulse. After a few futile attempts, I located a slow, dim pulse from her neck. "Fuck!" I sat down cross-legged and bit my lower lip in deep thought.

The professor rushed up behind me and began to do some tests on the girl. "I have never heard you use such colorful language before, Mr. Potter. She is not supposed to be here, is she?"

"No, she's not." I quickly lifted the girl and placed her head in my lap. She was incredibly light. What was a girl doing in h_ere_? "Um . . . what do we do? She's in critical condition. We need to give her immediate medical attention!"

The professor put on a thoughtful grim expression before pulling out his wicked white wand. He waved it and produced a double rainbow effect. Sparks shot out of his wand and produced an aura around the young girl. The girl stirred as a steadier pulse returned to her body.

"Um . . . Zoe!" I hoped that the female counterpart of Dobby would listen to me as readily as Dobby had done in my life. To my relief, the house elf popped and promptly bowed deeply.

"Master Potter, you is needing me?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed as my voice quavered with nervousness. A young child's life was in my hands. "I need you to bring me a magical medical emergency kit immediately! An MMEK, fully equipped with blood-replenishing potion, skele-grow potion, and some skin preservative."

The elf looked at the stricken form of the girl and urgently saluted me before popping away.

"That was a very wise decision." The headmaster admired my quick thinking. "You know about MMEK's?"

"It's my survival instinct, Dore." I responded. I felt the girl's skin and realized that there were burn marks on it. The girl was extremely malnourished as well. I gritted my teeth. Somebody had been abusing her!

Zoe popped back, with an army of four other elves. "I is bringing more elves for helping yous."

"Thank you." I gratefully accepted the medical kit and opened the girl's mouth. I measured out a few tablespoons of each of the three potions and poured them into her mouth. "Water, please." I held out my hand. One of the elves handed me a clean glass of water. I massaged the girl's throat, forcing her to gulp down the potions. I brought the glass of water to her lips. The girl stirred and smacked her lips.

She blinked her eyes before slowly opening them. She opened her mouth and allowed for me to pour the water into her dry mouth. The girl began to steadily take sips from the glass of water.

After the first glass of water had been drained, the girl gained some consciousness. She sat up in my lap and rested her warm head against my chest. "More water, with some sugar this time." An elf popped away and came back with the desired liquid. I brought the liquid to her lips. The girl managed to gulp down the entire glass in two sips. She looked back at me expectantly. I nodded and continued to hydrate her with another glass of water.

Finally, the girl opened her eyes completely. We all looked at the girl with concern, waiting for her to speak. She seemed afraid to speak up. She continued to study me, and I her.

Dumbledore fumbled with his beard. "What is your name?" He directed the question towards the weak child.

The girl glanced at Grandpa Dore and shied away, burying her face into my chest. I ran my right hand through her blond curls and comforted her. She was obviously traumatized.

"I promise not to hurt you." I whispered into her ear, kissing her forehead. I continued to soothingly run my hand through her hair. I would _not_let anyone hurt her again. I turned towards the house elves and asked them to bring the girl some food.

The girl wrapped both arms around my chest and said nothing. The house elves returned with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some other delicacies. I took the sandwich with my left hand and brought it to the girl's lips. Slowly, but surely, the girl began to nibble on the sandwich. After devouring more than half of it, she was wide awake. She got off my lap and sat down across from me, on both knees.

"What's your name, pumpkin?" I asked quietly. The girl innocently raised her brows and pursed her lips.

After what seemed like ten minutes of silence, the girl muttered, "Maid."

I frowned. _Mai_d? What kind of a name was that? "Is that your name?"

She cleared her throat a few times before responding choppily. "They don't like me. Auntie calls me maid."

I growled. Someone really _had_been abusing her! The girl's eyes widened upon seeing the angry look on my face. I immediately softened. "Come here," I spread out my arms. The girl flinched at first, but gratefully launched into my embrace.

She held onto my back tightly, not wanting to let go. Slowly, I peeled her off and took both of her hands in my left. "Tell me about yourself. How old are you?"

The girl tucked a strand of her frizzy hair behind her ear. After straining her brows, she held up seven fingers. "I'm this many."

I smiled and patted the girl's head. "And where do you live? Can you tell me about your relatives?" Upon seeing her blank expression, I elaborated. "Tell me more about your auntie and uncle."

The girl's eyes widened. "I can't say."

"Why not?" The girl looked at Dumbledore, and then at the house elves, with curiosity. She took discreet glances at the food in the hands of the house elves. "Are you hungry?" She nodded numbly. "Take anything you want." I gestured towards the plates of food in the hands of the house elves. She approached the house elves cautiously and busied herself with some chocolate cake.

"We should take her to Poppy. I shall examine her mind and find all that we need right away." Professor Dumbledore suggested.

I shook my head. "We cannot do that sir. The girl has been abused, mentally and physically. She is traumatized. Attacking her mind or even _looking_ though it without her permission would cause more harm than it would help. We need her to open up to us first."

Grandpa Dore nodded and conjured a chair to sit on. "You are very wise for your age," he whispered.

"Is the cake tasty?" I openly smiled and made the girl feel welcome and wanted.

"Yes." She replied meekly.

"Why can't you tell me about your auntie and uncle, pumpkin?"

The girl stopped eating and bit her lips. "I don't want them to get in trouble."

"Why not?" I insisted, knowing exactly where this was leading to. However, she needed to let out her feelings. She needed to open up to someone. She needed _someone_to carry the emotional burden for her. She needed someone. Someone like me. And I would be there for her.

"Because if they find out I tattle-tailed them, they are going to be very angry. They are going to hurt me and put fire on my arm again." She held out her forearm and pointed to the various burn marks.

I sighed, extremely angry at her relatives. "I promise that they will _not_ hurt you anymore. I won't let them. I'll keep you safe from them, okay?"

The girl looked at me with a hopeful gleam in her eyes. "You promise?" She whispered.

"I promise." At this, the girl burst back into tears and ran up to me for another round of emotional hugs.

"Thank you." She mumbled into my white t-shirt, which was now soaked with the girl's tears. I smiled and ran my hands through her hair again. "What's _your_ name?" She looked up at me with big eyes and asked in a small voice.

"Um . . . I'm Harry. Just . . . Harry." I stared back into the little girl's eyes.

"Can I call you _Daddy_ Harry?" She perked up her thin, rounded eyebrows, blinking her long eyelashes.

I flinched visibly. _Daddy Harry._Teddy used to call me that. I gulped but smiled. "Sure."

The girl turned to Dumbledore and then at the five house elves. "Where are we?" She tugged my arm.

"Well," I scratched my chin, wondering what to tell the child. Was she a Muggle? Was she a young witch? I couldn't be sure. But what the hell, I would have taken care of her regardless.

"What are those?" She tugged on the sleeve of my shirt and pointed towards the dark-green house elves. "Will they hurt me?"

I sighed. "Do you believe in magic, pumpkin?"

The girl gasped. "Magic?" She frowned a cute frown and nodded. "I believe in magic. Once, I floated Auntie's vanilla pudding to me. It was funny. But then she hurt me with fire and took it back from me."

I closed my eyes and stopped myself from randomly destroying something. The nerve of her relatives! If I ever got the chance to do so, I would give them a taste of their own medicine.

I inhaled slowly and looked back at the girl. Well, at least I knew that she was a witch. "Well, magic exists. And those," I pointed towards the elves, "are magical creatures. They're our friends. They won't hurt us."

The girl opened her mouth and gaped in awe. "Wow. Are they my friends too?"

I smiled grimly. "Yes." I pointed towards the proud, obedient, female elf in the middle. "That's Zoe. Next to her is Lexi. To Lexi's right is . . . erm. . . ." I didn't know the other three elves' names.

"I is Misk." The male elf raised his hand. "And they is Nurg and Learot." He introduced the other two.

I nodded in agreement. "Yeah. They're all very friendly."

"Who is he?" She whispered timidly, pointing towards Dumbledore.

"That is . . . Dumbledore. But I call him Grandpa Dore."

"Can I call you Grandpa Dore too?" She studied Dr. Dore's long salt and pepper beard.

The elder man smiled kindly and knelt down next to the both of us. "Yes, child. You may call me that."

"Where are we?" The girl asked once more.

"We are . . . in a _big_ school." I chose my words wisely. "Inside of a secret _clubhouse_."

"Like inside of a treehouse?" She asked curiously.

"Well, we're somewhere secret. Underneath the school. And Grandpa Dore is the headmaster of the school."

"Okay," the girl yawned and stretched her frail arms in the air.

I pondered on what to do next. Just as I opened my mouth to ask her another question, the blond-haired girl began to cough violently. I immediately took her into my arms. "Are you okay?"

The girl coughed some more. She blinked her eyes a couple of times before slowly closing them. I searched for her pulse. I placed my forefinger on her neck and gulped. It had dropped significantly. "Shiznit!" I cried out loud. I turned towards Dr. Dore. "She passed out! We need to get her to the infirmary."

Dumbledore frowned. "Do we exit through the same way we got here?"

"It'll take too long!" My mind began to race as I looked around for something that would help me. Out of instinct, I clutched the girl into a strong embrace and closed my eyes. I focused my magic on apparating out of the Chamber of Secrets. Even though it was a very unlikely feat, it was my only chance.

Suddenly, I felt my insides burn. I clenched my teeth as I felt a burning sensation against my skin. I kept my eyes closed as a warm breeze of ash-stricken air engulfed the both of us. When I opened my eyes again, I was inside the Hogwarts infirmary.

Pretty neat, eh? Well, I don't really know what happened. But you have to admit that it was really convenient. I felt bad for leaving Dumbledore behind, but he would find his way out eventually. Right then, I had bigger problems at hand.

Thinking quickly, I laid the girl onto a white bed and rushed towards Madame Pompfrey's office. I knocked on the wooden door and waited impatiently.

"What is it . . . Mr. Potter?" The nurse frowned as she opened the door and looked at me weirdly. "Is something wrong?"

"There's an injured girl on the bed nearest here. I found her in malnourished condition. She needs urgent medical attention."

The nurse's eyes widened as she pushed me out of the way and marched towards the bed. Upon seeing the girl curled up on the bed, she gasped. "Oh dear!" She rushed back into her office and searched through her cabinet.

"Is she going to be okay?" I asked in a concerned tone. I felt some sort of connection between the girl and I. She made me feel . . . complete? I know, it's odd.

"Move aside, my dear boy." She rushed passed me with dozens of bottles in hand. "She will be fine."

"I came to you as quickly as possible, Ma'am. I re-hydrated her and gave her some food before bringing her here. I gave her sugar water . . . to make up for the lost electrolytes in her body." It turns out that that biology and the human anatomy becomes very important when you're part of a one-man army.

"You have done well in reviving the child. However, you must leave while I do some physical examinations, young man." She began to strip the girl of her oversized clothes. She looked back at me and pointed towards the entrance. "Shoo!"

I sullenly walked out into the corridor. The door to the infirmary shut behind me with a slam. I stopped directly outside the room and slid against the wall. All of a sudden, Dr. Dore materialized into view, Fawkes on his shoulder. I looked up at him.

"You abandoned me inside the chamber, dear lad." Fawkes gave a chirp and flashed away.

"Sorry about that." I replied back sheepishly, clutching a a handful of my greasy hair.

He shook his head. "It's quite alright. I had Fawkes accompany me back here directly out of the chamber. I wish we had thought of using Fawkes earlier." He paused. "Where is the poor child?"

"Madame Pompfrey's checking up on her." I stared at the floor.

"I must ask: how did you manage to apparate out from the chamber? I tried several times before calling my familiar for assistance."

I looked up at the professor and exhaled deeply. "I don't know sir. It just . . . happened."

"It wasn't a spell of some sort, was it? Perhaps a new spell from your alternate future?"

"No sir," I shook my head. "I just willed myself to get here as fast as I could."

"Really?" He frowned. "Because your apparation was quite odd."

"How so?" I looked up at Dr. Dore.

"Well, a gust of flames followed your departure."

I gulped. So I hadn't apparated normally, had I? What had happened? I didn't know what to say.

I was not normal. And I would never be normal. No matter where I went. We established that a long while back. I was a _freak_. I would always stay one. No matter what others told me.

Just then, Madame Pompfrey opened the door. "I was just about to go looking for you, headmaster. There's a little girl in the infirmary. I thought to inform you that Mr. Potter brought her in here just minutes ago."

"Yes, Poppy. I know all about her. Is she alright?"

"She's asleep as of now. She will most likely be in here for the next few days."

"Can I see her?" I spoke up. She turned to face me and shook her head.

"I'm sorry. I need to inform her parents or guardians immediately. Only family can see her."

"We do not know about her family." Dumbledore added. "She will be –"

"My ward." I interrupted Dumbledore confidently. "She is my ward. I shall take care of her."

"But Mr. Potter, you are much to young." The nurse tried to talk some sense into me. "It would be best if we transported her to a Muggle orphanage. She would be much better off there."

"No, ma'am. She is my ward. And please do not examine her mind without my permission."

The nurse frowned. "What authority do you have over her, Mr. Potter? You are just a student."

I moved my right hand into the air and cut her off with an oath. "I, Harry James Peverell Potter, declare magical guardianship over the girl. I swear that no harm shall come upon her as long as she is under my protection." A dim golden-cyan light left my hand and sailed towards the girl in bed. I looked at Pompfrey with a vexed look on my face. "There, happy?"

The nurse sputtered before grudgingly nodding. She hadn't noticed that I used my real name in the oath. I'll have to be more careful about those next time.

"Very well. I shall inform you if there is any change in her condition. But you still cannot see her until morning. I promise that she will be safe here in the infirmary."

I nodded. "Thank you." The nurse turned around and headed back inside, closing the infirmary door behind her.

"Was all that necessary, my dear boy?" Dumbledore gave me a puzzled look. "I assure you that the orphanage would have provided her with a grand youth."

I snorted. "Yeah, just like it provided Tom Riddle with an amazing youth, right?" The headmaster's eyes widened as he bowed his head in shame. I softened up upon seeing my mentor embarrassed. "I'm sorry professor, I shouldn't have said that."

"It's quite true, Harry. I have done many wrongs in my life. Forgive me for questioning your judgment."

I grinned weakly. "My judgment, sir?"

"Yes, Harry. You are wiser than even I am at times. You seem like a very responsible parent to me. Have you been one in your lifetime?"

I paled significantly and blinked my eyes a couple of times as they began to water. "Y-yes sir. I used to . . . have a go-godson." Memories of the cute little bugger began to flash in front of my eyes.

Grandpa Dore saw my vulnerable state and apologized. "I'm sorry for having asked, Harry."

I smiled grimly. I don't know what made me want to tell him, but I did. I told Dore about Teddy. "His name was Teddy. Teddy . . . Lupin."

Dumbledore brought up his hand to my shoulder to comfort me. "I'm truly sorry. It must be sad having to give up someone you loved so dearly. You needn't tell me more."

I nodded numbly. "The girl looks just like him." I smiled. "H-her eyes talk to me. Just like Teddy's eyes used to." My voice cracked as my arms began to tremble.

"Dear boy." The headmaster lightly tapped my shoulder. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, burying the emotions deep inside my heart.

"I'm okay, sir." I stepped back and wiped the moistness from my eyes. "I'd better get to the Chamber and retrieve the basilisk poison for you sir."

"It's quite alright. We can go tomorrow. Together."

I didn't answer. I simply turned around and started walking towards the Chamber again. Dumbledore knew better than to follow me. I needed to be alone. I needed some alone time.

I walked into the girl's second-floor bathroom and repeated the whole process over again. After entering the chamber entrance, I went towards the statue of Slytherin. I spoke to it in Parseltongue and summoned the basilisk.

After nicely asking the huge basilisk for some of her venom, I capped the bottles of collected venom and placed them inside my pockets. I trotted towards Slytherin's music room and stopped in front of the huge display of a green acoustic guitar. Next to it was a flimsy, green wand. A wand that had worked for me the last time I tired to use it.

My hands shaking, I reached to take out the Guitar of Slytherin with both hands. I experimentally plucked the strings and smiled as the beautiful sound reached my ears. I slapped the guitar onto my back, slid the green wand into my side pocket, and exited the Chamber of Secrets. After delivering the basilisk venom to Dr. Dore in his office, I went out by the lake to get my alone time.

_I miss you Teddy! Come back! It's all my fault!_

. . .

Lily Evans walked across the courtyard. She always came out at night to think. Especially when she was overly stressed out about certain things. Lily wandered across the cobblestone path that was cut into the courtyard. It lead to a spot near the lake for the leisure of students. She leaned against the giant boulder lodged next to the shore of the water and gazed back at the stars, admiring their beauty. Her eyes twinkled with serenity as she closed her eyes and began to listen to the silent environment around her.

But in the distance, Lily heard the strumming of an acoustic guitar. She frowned, squinted her closed eyes, and perked up her ears a bit towards the left to get a better listen. Lily smiled and began to hum along with the melodious plucking of the guitar. Steadily, she began to tap her feet in rhythm.

Opening her eyes, Lily got up and decided to get a closer listen to the song. The tune was very relaxing, much like a lullaby. A sad lullaby, that is. She peered across the horizon and caught the glimpse of a lone figure sitting a few hundred feet away from her position. Quietly, she began to walk towards the person in question. As she neared closer, the song became crystal-clear to her delicate ears.

/ Once upon a time, \

/ A very long while a_go_. \

/ Met this pretty redhead, \

/ But had to let her _go_. \

/ Told me that she loved _me_, \

/ Told me that she cared. \

/ Told me I was special, \

/ Had me _so_ ensnared. \

/ That deceitful little fiery, \

/ Devil of a whore. \

/ I saved her life once, \

/ It's no longer my chore. \

/ Can't believe I didn't see, \

/ The evidence before. \

/ All I had to really do was, \

/ Walk outside the trap door. \

Lily frowned, intrigued by the soothing voice. It was a deep voice, probably that of a male musician. He was very articulate with the strumming, gracefully plucking each note in perfect timing with the lyrics. The singer's deep voice was awing as well. Whenever he would sing in a higher pitch, his voice would remain steady and would never crack.

/ What is _true_ love? \

(/ Can somebody tell me? \)

/ Should I plunge into an abyss? \

/ And pray that you catch me? \

/ What's the point of life? \

(/ Somebody tell _me_! \)

/ Just a cycle of endless strife? \

/ Where is my master key? \

/ Are you, my friend? \

/ Or are you my foe? \

/ What is, true love? \

/ And what is a woe? \

/ Who can I forever trust? \

(/ Will you ever betray _me_? \)

/ Whom can I forever lust? \

(/ Will you ever use _me_? \)

(/ A heart \)

/ Full of pain. \

(/ A mind \)

/ Full of horror. \

(/ A soul \)

/ So very pure. \

/ How much more can I endure? \

Lily strained her eyes as she tried to make out the features of the boy's face, but it seemed an impossible feat in the midst of the dark night. She focused on the silhouette of his actions.

The boy took out his wand and examined it for a while, before muttering, "_Expecto Patronum_."

"Hey, there, Prongs." The male muttered as a white stag leapt out of the boy's wand. The realistic, luminescent patronus bowed in front of the boy. The boy chuckled and patted the animal's translucent fur. "You'll never leave me, will you Prongs? You'll always be there for me, right?"

The stag nuzzled the boy's still-hidden face. The boy sniffled, and hugged the patronus. "Thanks. I knew I could count on someone. Say, you want a friend to play with, eh Prongs?"

The stag nuzzled the boy's wand hand in appreciation. "That's great. _Expecto Patronum."_A smaller version of the same, identical stag patronus leapt from the boy's wand, before settling down next to the larger patronus. "There. Prongs, meet Prongs Junior. Prongs Junior, meet Prongs."

The two glowing animal figures tackled one another before settling down next to the boy. "I love you guys. After all, you're the only ones I've got left." The boy sniffed and stared into the stark moonlight.

Lily Evans backed away from the surreal scene. On one hand, she was deeply awed by the casual manner in which the boy had produced the two beautiful patroni. He was definitely a powerful wizard. On the other hand, she felt sorry for the boy. Who was he? Why was he so lonely and depressed?

Lily felt her own eyes tear up. Just as she turned around, she bumped into none other than Albus Dumbledore. She gasped and yelped in surprise.

"Hello, Ms. Evans. Lovely evening, isn't it?" She panicked, pointing towards the boy mutely. "Do not fret. I have set up a Silencing Charm."

"Si-sir. I didn't mean to invade that boy's privacy but –"

"It's quite alright."

"Who is he?" Lily whispered meekly, brushing away tears that had welled up in her eyes. As an afterthought, she added, "I'll be his friend."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "Perhaps, you can help him."

"What's his name?" The redhead with bright green eyes asked eagerly.

"That, I cannot say. However, I will say this much: the boy is deeply troubled and delusional."

"Why can't I . . . I want to help him." Lily insisted, looking back at the spot where the boy sat cross-legged, his back to her.

But as she turned back to face the professor, she found that he was no longer there. Lily frowned and looked around for any sign of the man. The headmaster was nowhere in sight. He had just vanished. Taking one last glance at the motionless boy, she made her way back to the castle with a heavy weight heaving down her chest.


	7. Diary of a Wimpy Kid

_Disclaimer_: Not for cats under the age of seven. You have been warned.

* * *

The Diary of a Wimpy Kid

_Harry's POV_

You know, I don't believe in true love. I don't think I ever did . . . well, it doesn't matter anyways. I don't anymore, so it's all cool. That's all that matters – I don't believe in it anymore. Love . . . just hurts people. It's sort of like a plague, if you'd like to use that as the analogy. It'll eat you up from the inside. And then, when you fall down the stairs due to incompetent metabolism and heartbreak, you'll never know what hit you. It's _the_ flaw of humankind. It's a good thing I got away from it in time. (Hey, that rhymed!)

I'll admit that I _might_ have believed in love (I was young and foolish, so don't blame me) at one point. But that all changed. Do you know exactly when my view on life changed? Perhaps the date that I opened my eyes and thought about things around me for myself . . . for the first time?

To be honest, it wasn't exactly a specific date, not like a holiday, although it might as well have been. It was . . . a gradual change – a gradual yet very sudden change. It was an abrupt change that shocked my perception of electromagnetic waves. Hmm . . . okay class, let's all take a lucky guess: in which year did Harry Potter become a true individual human being? And how did it happen? Anyone . . . ?

You guessed it – good job! It's happened almost two years ago, if my calculations are correct. And it was all due to an incident that should _not_ – wait, correction: _never – _be discussed in the near future. Sir Dumbledore once said that, "It does not do to dwell on the past." Frankly, I agree wholeheartedly. Some things are just not meant to be discussed. Better to keep these thoughts buried away in a place where they cannot cause you or anyone around you harm.

And don't even get me started on life! I mean, come on guys! Life is . . . quite _pointless_. It's just not worth the struggle, is it? You do things, you suffer losses, and you gain joy only to lose it; rinse and repeat! What kind bull is that? It's all really an endless cycle of strife, pain, and hardships. And I've had _plenty_ of heated arguments with Hermione about this topic in the past.

Ha . . . Hermione. She was amazing, just bloody freakin' brilliant! Hermione was my sister in every way possible. She was always there for me. And like every brother and sister in this damned world, we got into numerous conflicts over the silliest of things. One of the constant arguments we had with one another was about the meaning and point of life. Oh goody!

Hermione always seemed to appreciate life. I didn't. She said that there was a purpose to it. But she never discovered this so-called 'purpose' to life. It's a shame really. But she sure tried to press me into putting faith in life. I rebuked her every time. I always argued that she was wrong. I always argued against her. It was . . . quite entertaining.

There was this one instance where she made up this whole freakishly intricate and super complicated equation to prove that life wasn't a static, but rather dynamic experience, meaning that there was a point to it. According to Hermione, dynamic meant that life varied from person to person: no two people could lead the same life. And you know what? She actually got acknowledged for the whole thing. Many of the Hogwarts' teachers praised her work, especially the Arithmancy teacher. Snape even threw her dubious nods from time to time, which said something.

You see, beginning in sixth year (or was it the middle of sixth year?), Hermione and I made a bet. Basically, we had to convince the other about our views on life. I had to prove to her, that life was plainly put – stupid. She had to prove to me that I was wrong. It was all for fun, really. But being the person she is, Hermione took it to a _whole_ new level, pumping out what she called: the 'Equation of Life.'

This equation combined Muggle mathematics and concepts from Arithmancy to prove that life was a dynamic and unique experience for every individual. But I won't go into much detail about it now. I don't quite recall how the equation went exactly: there was a bunch of mind-boggling variables and you know how atrocious I am at all things related to math. Anyways, let's backtrack a year.

At the end of my fifth year, I began to slowly isolate myself from the people around me, or at least I tried to. For those of you who don't know, my pals and I went to the Department of Mysteries that year to save someone who was never in danger. That year not only signified the death of my dogfather – which had been _entirely_ my fault and nobody can tell me otherwise – but it was also the year that my relationship with 'the love of my life' became rather _ropey_. It was also the year that I redefined the word 'friends' and rediscovered the 'social pyramid.'

Now that I come to think of it . . . what in the bloody hell was I thinking? _She _was the love of my life? Really! Hah . . . as if! There's no way that . . . never mind.

That year genuinely changed me; whether for the better or the worse, the answer still remains unanswered.

After the Battle at the Ministry, I started giving myself some private time. Every night, after dinnertime, I would fish out a Muggle pen and some paper, and go to sit out by the Black Lake. Sometimes, I would lay down under the phantom moonlight and write about the random emotions ready to burst out of my chest. Other times, I would gaze back into the clear lake water, examine the tired wrinkled of my young face, and simply weep myself to sleep on the bare grass.

There is always this one point in life that really changes people. A point where children mature and adults become more conscious of reality. A time of realization. A time of heightened self-awareness. A time of where there's a large-scale explosion of epiphanies.

And it was during one of these countless nights of despair that I realized that I would probably die a virgin. It was the saddest moment of my life, even sadder than the hundreds of other sad moments in my damn life.

I would die a virgin. Quite sad, isn't it? Now, you might be thinking: what the bloody freakin' hell does this have to do with anything? Well, it doesn't. . . .

_Okay_, maybe it does.

...

"James is gonna die a virgin!" Sirius chanted in a singsong voice. "James is gonna die a virgin!"

Harry sighed and clutched his forehead. "Would you just . . . shut up? You're giving me a headache."

"Jamesie is gonna die a virgin!" Sirius continued chanting. "And I'm gonna bone a bunch of really hot Persians!"

"What is he going on about?" Harry asked as his gaze wandered across the Great Hall.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Sirius just realized that two Persian chicks live right across from his house. They're twins and they're both fourth-year Ravenclaws. And they were giving him 'The Look' yesterday. So naturally, he thinks that he's some sort of sex god or something."

"They're not just any chicks, mate." Sirius gave Remus a pointed look. "They're flaming hot chicks sent from . . . Persia. And to answer your other question James: just give up on Lily or you'll stay a virgin for the rest of your life. It'd be for the best if you took my advice and started boning other witches."

Harry nodded uncertainly. "Your . . . advice, Sirius?"

"Yeah, my advice is pretty legit, don't you think? Say," Sirius twisted his neck to get a better view of the Ravenclaw table. "Did they just . . . give me 'The Look' again?" He grinned. "Oh, they want it bad, don't they?"

"I doubt it," Remus mumbled, causing Peter to snigger.

"What are you guys doing over the holidays?" Harry sparked up an intelligent conversation for once.

"Well, I'm going to be with my mum the entire time. She gets very emotional whenever I ditch her to come over to your house during the summers. So this year, I'll be with her the entire summer, especially since she's been getting very sick lately."

Peter nodded solemnly. "Especially after that heart attack, right?"

Remus nodded. "And my father's just a freakin' sun of the beach."

"You hate your father?" Harry asked. He didn't know much about Remus's familial history.

"Eh," Remus blew a few bangs away from his eyes, "he tries his best to support us. But he's never himself. Besides, he's almost never home. He doesn't try to comfort mum, so I hate him for that. He's always working and never really . . . affectionate. I'm the only one that ever cares for mum."

"You know, the Potters are pretty well off financially and —" Harry started.

Remus held up his hand and smiled while shaking his head. "Nah, mate, it's not about money. We've had this discussion millions of times. I'm fine."

Sirius spoke up. "You think they'd object if I dragged both of them to the broom closet next to the kitchens and snogged them both at the same time? Or should I do each of them separately?" He looked at the other boys. "Because I don't want to spark up too much competition between the sisters."

Harry managed a smile and snorted. "You should follow your heart."

Sirius nodded boldly. "You're right. I should snog the both of them at the same time in _public_." Remus and Peter let out jocund laughs. Sirius frowned. "What's so funny?"

..

Dumbledore got up and stretched out his arms. After a few moments, the noise level had settled down to the very minimal. "I would like to congratulate the graduating class of 1973." Dumbledore paused as there was a roar of cheers. The headmaster's eyes twinkled with joy upon seeing the happy faces of dozens of students from all across the room. He held up his hands up again, signaling for another round of silence. "Hopefully, Hogwarts has taught each and every one of you something vital that shall provide you with the essential tools to succeed in life."

Some students were teary-eyed; some girls were sobbing; some boys were given other boys masculine hugs. Despite the various houses, they all looked up at the headmaster with respect.

"Hogwarts will always be one of the most important adventures in your lives. Here, you have made friends, outgrown your childhoods, and learned life lessons. Most importantly, you have all learned that the right thing is not always the easy thing to do." Dumbledore paused and looked down at his feet. "_M__ala tempora currunt_," the old man mumbled to himself, but some of the staff members heard him and nodded in agreement while others looked at him with perplexed looks. He looked back at the anxious students. "That is all."

"Now?" Peter whispered. The student body seemed tense.

Harry looked around and realized that everyone's attention was on the headmaster. "Ready. Hit it."

Remus nudged Sirius. The four pranksters took out their wands at the same time and discretely pointed them under the Gryffindor table.

"One—two—_three_!" Remus hissed. At this, the four boys twirled their wands in the same hand motion and let loose a stray of colored spells. The spells began to whiz under the table like firecrackers. Many of the Gryffindors jumped up from their seats. Within seconds, the multicolored spells had reached the end of the Gryffindor table and had multiplied into dozens of stray lights. As the lights began to exit from the under the wooden table, sparks scattered and dispersed throughout the air. Students began to laugh and wave their hands raucously. The staff didn't bother to fix the mess and joined the celebration.

Harry pointed his wand at the charmed ceiling and whispered, "_Incendio_." A purple and green flame left his wand and joined the lights whirling around in the air. Upon contact with the charmed ceiling, the purple flame burst and activated the preset mechanism that Harry had set up a few nights ago. The ceiling rumbled and the projected sky began to dim. Before anyone could question what was going on, it began to drizzle fervently.

"Holy fudge, mate." Sirius gaped as the rain poured down hard. No matter what spell the students and staff tried, they could not dispel the rainwater. Harry caught Dumbledore's gaze; the headmaster nodded in approval.

Remus gave Harry a sincere grin. "Good one."

Harry swelled up with a tad bit of pride. "Thanks."

As the rain continued to pour down, it accumulated and eventually flooded the floor. Peter dove onto the floor and began to paddle his arms. "Hey, who wants to race me to the other side of the table?"

Sirius blinked twice before letting a feral grin consume his face. "Get back here, Pete." He too dove onto the flooded floor and swam towards Pete. A few other audacious students took Sirius and Peter as an example and turned the Great Hall into their personal swimming pool.

"Albus!" McGonagall scolded the headmaster. "Shouldn't we stop them?"

The headmaster didn't say anything. He scrutinized his gaze on Harry. The young boy watched the scene before him unfold but did not participate in the activities of his fellow pranksters. The young man had a fake smile plastered on his face; a smile that did not quite match his eyes. "_Mea culpa_," the headmaster shook his head and sighed with a heavy heart.

...

_Lily's POV_

The end-of-the-year feast was much more exciting than I had anticipated it to be. It turns out that the four Gryffindor boy baddies actually have a sense of imagination. This time, they were able to manipulate the simple _Lumos_ charm. I believe that they each cast a _Lumos _charm with the combined wrist movements to change the color of the light in combination with the Supersensory charm. Anyhow, they managed to create a delightful atmosphere. Who would have ever guessed?

And when I thought they couldn't get more creative, I saw James raise his wand into the air and shoot an _Incendio _charm with a color-changing wrist movement. His purple flame was used to set off some sort of preset mechanism. Because right after the purple flame impacted with a particular spot on the ceiling, it began to rain.

I'm not saying that I actually like any of them anymore than I did before. Heavens no! I'm just saying that . . . the four of them are more tolerable. Hopefully, this has marked a good change. I would love to see some more of their more imaginative pranks.

Well, it's sad leaving Hogwarts. This year, I feel much more mature than the previous years. Maybe it's because Dumbledore's speech struck me much more than ever before. In the end, he mumbled something in Latin. Whatever he said, it made me shudder. Does he know something that I don't?

Well, I'm currently in the girls' dorms. I've packed everything. Unlike last time, I didn't forget to pack anything. I double-checked everything this time! My fellow dorm-mates are still dressing up in Muggle clothes. But I don't understand why Silvia is putting make-up on. It's just a train ride.

Catherine, Mary, and Marlene are in the bathroom getting ready for the train ride as well. I don't understand why they're preparing for a train ride. I mean, I took a shower in the morning and that's good enough, right? It's not some sort of hot date, is it? Gosh.

And you know what? I think I'll go to the infirmary to get a few Dreamless Potions for the summer. I sometimes have a hard time falling asleep. The potion is really helpful at times.

It's twelve o' clock right now. The train will probably leave at one thirty. So that gives me at least half an hour to roam the castle.

..

The door to my right closed shut. Catherine exited from one of the side bathrooms. "Hey, Lils. Aren't you going to get ready for the train ride?"

I shook my head. "I don't understand why you need to get dressed up for the train ride."

Catherine blushed a bit but shrugged. "You never know." She looked at me. "Where are you going?"

I brushed my fiery red hair and attempted to straighten it. "I'm just going to the infirmary to get a few Dreamless Potions for the summer."

Catherine nodded. "Be back soon, 'kay dear?"

I smiled. "Yes, mother." I began descending the stairs that led to the common room but stopped midway. "Is that Potter?"

Catherine tiptoed behind me. "_James_ Potter? Is Black there too?"

I frowned back at her but saved her the awkward questions. "What's Potter doing in the common room alone?"

"Yeah," Cathy nodded in agreement. "Why is he alone? Isn't Black always with him?" She whispered the last part in my left ear, pointing in his direction at the same time.

"I . . . don't know." I struggled to find answers but was unable to. And then, something caught my eye. "Is that a guitar on his back?"

"Guitar?" Catherine frowned. "I don't see anything."

"Wh-what do you mean you don't see anything?" I stuttered. I rubbed my eyes and focused on Potter's back. The guitar was plain in sight. "It's right there!"

"Lily . . . I don't really —"

"That green . . . guitar. On his back! Don't you see it?" I whispered furiously. Why couldn't she see the guitar?

"Are you alright, sweetie?" Catherine gave me a pitiful look. "You should really get some more sleep, Lils."

I gaped. The more I focused on James Potter, the more of a mystery he became.

...

_Harry's POV_

I didn't pack anything. Well, there wasn't much to pack to begin within the first place. I mean, the trunk was full of unopened books. It looks like James Potter never studied for any of his exams and still managed to scrape passing grades somehow. I wonder if he ever cheated. . . .

Well, there were some things that I made sure of shrinking into convenient size so I could place them in my pocket. I also made sure to pack the small books and pamphlets that were scattered around in the dormitory. They were mostly books on how to woo girls, pamphlets on how to cope with disasters (I don't know why James had this one), and books on how to incorporate pranking with dueling. Finally, I placed this thin green book (remember the one that I told you about earlier – the one with probably some sort of password?) in one of my back pants' pockets.

The Guitar of Slytherin was something that I couldn't shrink using magic. There's a reason as to why: there are some runes that make the guitar an indestructible masterpiece. By shrinking it, one would be destroying some sort of these vital internal mechanisms. So, Slytherin put a rune that prevented the users from shrinking the guitar. It has to do with Music Theory and the Magicks of Music. I don't know either theory so I won't get into that conversation now.

So instead of shrinking the guitar, I placed a minimalistic Disillusionment charm on it. Only those who had ever heard me play the guitar would be able to see it. I'm pretty sure nobody has ever heard me pluck a single string on this beauty so it's safe to assume that the guitar will remain invisible to almost everyone. I should think so.

Well, anyways, let's continue with something more interesting. Like how Zoe scared the frap out of me by popping behind me and saying, "She wants you."

Okay, let's backtrack a bit.

I was about to collect my Quidditch supplies and put them in a separate trunk when there was an audible pop from behind me. Naturally, I jumped up and fell backwards. I wasn't that lucky – I fell on my bum. And for all those who want to know, I have a sensitive bum so it bloody hurt!

"Ouch!" I bit my tongue and sprung onto my feet. I began to hop on both feet and rubbed my bum. Well, a passerby would have said that I was groping my bum . . . but that sounds wrong.

I looked to my left and realized that Zoe was standing there. She had a blush on her face. "I is sorry mister Potter. I did not meant to be shocking you."

I cringed but dismissed her apology. "It's okay." I rubbed my bum a bit more before composing a very cool stature. "Is there something you needed?"

Zoe nodded. "She is needing you." Before I could ask her what the hell she was going on about, the house elf gasped and popped away, mumbling something incoherent.

Okay, now I don't know how weird house elves are . . . but isn't that . . . just overkill?

At first, my mind dissolved into a nonfunctioning state. I frowned and sat down on the edge of my bed. Now, there are three ways of interpreting the above statement. Or at least three ways that I decided to decipher the aforementioned statement. Let's take a look at all three ways.

So first, I was like; She is needing _me_? So . . . she needs _me_? Why would anyone need _me_? Out of all the people at Hogwarts, why would anyone specifically choose _me_? Do you see what I'm getting at?

And then, I was like; _She _needs me? Why would a _female_ need me? Why did it have to be a _girl_?

And finally, being the pervert I am (not); She _needs _me? Whoa! A girl actually _needed _me? Was it wrong of me to assume that the girl _needed _me inside of her? . . . Yeah, it probably was.

Well, I finally figured out that none of the above three hypotheses were valid. I realized that the girl that needed me was in fact the girl I had saved from the chamber five days ago – yeah, that seven-year-old witch. It had been a week since she had been knocked unconscious. And the little girl hadn't woken up since.

Instantly, I jumped to my feet and slung my guitar over my back. I hurriedly pushed my broomstick into one of the remaining empty luggage bags and stuffed in my uniform inside of it as well. I grabbed both bags of luggage and sprinted down the boys' dormitory stairs. After realizing that I could make my luggage lighter, I cast some nifty charms on the bag and rushed out of the common room. I had a feeling that someone was watching me, but what the hell. I always feel like somebody's watching me.

And I also felt like I dropped something while I was placing the Light-weight charm on my luggage. But I didn't bother looking back. I was too stupefied by the fact that the young girl had awoken.

...

Harry rushed out of the common room, leaving behind a befuddled Lily and Catherine. Lily stuttered before sighing. "I'd best get going."

Catherine nodded. "Be back soon. You wouldn't want to miss the train and be left behind here with old Dumbledore, now would you?"

Lily managed a smile. "No, I wouldn't."

Lily quickly descended the rest of the stairs and was about to exit the common room when something caught her eye. From the corner of her eye, she saw a thin green book.

Lily squinted her eyes and bent over to pick up the book. The cover of the book was woven in velvet. Lily frowned as she felt around the cloth. Whose book was this? Lily tried to open it but was unable to as there was some sort of latch or mechanism that locked it shut.

Lily turned the book around and focused on the fine engraving on the bottom. It read:

_Property of James Potter. __Do not touch__._

"James Potter?" Lily mumbled out loud. Suddenly, the book began to vibrate. Lily dropped the book on the wooden floor. The latch on the front of the velvet green color came off loose.

Lily slowly picked up the thin book again. She tried to open it and was surprised to see that it opened up with ease this time. She opened the book to the back of the front cover and gaped in shock:

_This is the diary of James Potter. Sirius, if you managed to open it, I'm going to kill you. Remus, please don't spread any rumors. Pete . . . be a nice kid and hand it right back._

...

_Harry's POV_

"I want to see Daddy Harry!" A shrill voice echoed from inside the infirmary.

I tried my best not to act surprised. I mean, the girl still remembered me! That was certainly an accomplishment, right? And she seemed to appreciate me more than Madame Pomfrey. The latter made me feel a bit . . . smug about myself.

I slowly pushed the infirmary doors open and grinned at the sight in front of me. The little girl was retaliating against Madame Pomfrey's grasp and was throwing some sort of tantrum.

I calmly strode forward, making sure that neither of them noticed my entrance until the very last minute. When I was a few feet from the two, I cleared my throat.

The girl looked up and frowned. After a few seconds, she seemed to recognize me and squealed. "Daddy Harry!" She somehow managed to break loose of Madame Pomfrey's death grip and pounced on me. And I . . . fell on my bum again. Ouch! I toppled backwards and lay on my back.

"Hey, pumpkin," I covered up the pain in my voice easily.

The little girl got up and sat up on my chest. She looked down at me with a curious expression on her face. "Who's a pumpkin?"

I laughed. "That's you nickname, pumpkin."

The girl gasped and scowled cutely. "I don't like that nicki-name. It's ugly."

I laughed again and managed to sit up on the hard marble floor. Madame Pomfrey sent me a worried glance but I shook off her concerns. "I'm fine."

"Thank goodness you're here. She's been pestering me the whole day."

My eyes widened. "She's been awake since morning?"

Madame Pomfrey nodded and had the decency to look sheepish. "I'm sorry that —"

I let out a disgruntled sigh despite my cheery mood. "Ma'am, I think I specifically asked you to inform me when she awoke as soon as possible."

"I am sorry that I did not inform you earlier. I just had a few tests to do on her."

I narrowed my eyes. "Did you scour her mind?"

The women's eyes widened. "Merlin, no! I would never invade another's privacy, no less a patient."

I nodded. "Thank you for taking care of her. Is there anything I should know in terms of her medical history?"

The healer shook her head. "She is completely healthy. No diseases. I am not sure about allergies or any such conditions. You would have to contact her medical Muggle pediatrician. In addition, I do not know her name."

I nodded. I looked down at the girl. She seemed to have a fearful look on her face. I frowned. "What's wrong?"

She hugged onto my leg tightly. "You won't leave me here, will you?"

I settled down on my knees and embraced the young girl. "Of course not, pumpkin. I'll never abandon you."

She looked up at me. "Do you —"

I smiled. "I promise. You'll always be with me from now on."

"All the time?"

I laughed. "Well, not _all _the time. I mean, you'll have to go to the bathroom on your own and –"

The girl giggled. "Yuck, Daddy."

Madame Pomfrey seemed to be pleased with the interaction between the girl and I. "Will she be staying with you the entire time?"

I nodded. "I would guess so."

"Does your father know?" She asked.

I paled a bit. "Um . . . not exactly, but I'm sure that I can convince him."

The healer nodded and bid her goodbye. "If you are ever in need of advice about the girl, you know where to find me."

I nodded. Little Pumpkin waved at her as the healer made her leave.

"Daddy?" I looked down at her.

"Yeah, pumpkin?" I asked her as I hoisted her in my arms. In comparison, she was half my height – almost.

"Can you not call me 'pumpkin' in front of other people?"

I chuckled. "Why would I do that?"

"Because it's an icky name. And it's . . . em–ba–ras–sing."

"An icky name?" I asked.

"Yep. Can you call me something prettier?"

I rolled my eyes. "Names aren't . . . pretty."

"Yeah they are!" The girl huffed and crossed her arms across her chest. "Harry is a really pretty name."

I bit my lip and nodded my head. "Sure, pumpkin." The girl scowled. I laughed and paused to think of a witty name. "I'll call you . . . Isis."

"Is–is?" She frowned.

"No, it's pronounced 'eye-sis.'" I annunciated the name correctly.

The girl clapped her hands. "That's a really pretty name!"

"And a very prominently noble name as well. A good choice overall." A new voice interrupted our conversation from the right. I looked in the general direction of the voice and wasn't shocked to see Dumbledore.

"You're Grandpa Dore!" The girl giggled and leapt out from my hands. She ran forward to embrace the headmaster. The headmaster wore an expression of genuine shock before registering the girl into an embrace.

"Hello, sir – erm, I mean, Dumbledore." I smiled.

"Are you going to be bringing the girl home with you?" The headmaster asked.

I nodded. "Yes. She's my ward after all."

"Does your father know?" He re-uttered Madame Pomfrey's question.

"Um . . . no. But I think I can somehow convince him."

"Well, Charles can be very stubborn sometimes. Convincing him might take a while."

I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean, sir?"

"And in addition, I think it would not be wise to ride home with young Isis. Rumors would arise, no doubt."

"I don't care about rumors, Dumbledore."

"But if news of this reaches Tom Riddle, we might encounter some problems, don't you think?"

"But what would Isis have to do with Voldemort?"

"I am just saying that it is not wise to ride the train home."

I scowled. "Are you hiding something from me?"

The headmaster dodged my question nicely. "And it would be wise that you gave Peter Pettigrew a chance."

"What do you mean?" Damn my short attention span. I completely forgot about the previous concerns.

Dumbledore produced a vile containing a silvery white fluid that I recognized to be a memory. "When you were discussing your suspicions with Sirius Black after you first day here, Peter heard you and made an Unbreakable Vow of loyalty to the Marauders."

My eyes widened. "He was there? He was eavesdropping?"

"If you wish to review this memory," Dumbledore handed me the vial containing the white memory, "you may do so."

I frowned. "What do you want me to do?"

"Oh . . . nothing." Dumbledore dodged yet another very vital question. "And as I was saying before, it would be for the best if you did not ride home on the train."

I was so overwhelmed with the information Dumbledore had provided me with that I was unable to think rationally. "Um . . . yeah? I think?"

"Splendid." Dumbledore handed me a brass coin. "Say 'valor' to activate it."

"Wait a seconds . . . is this a portk—"

Before I could go on, Isis pounced on me again. "Don't leave, Harry!"

"I'm not leaving, Isis." I turned to Dumbledore and frowned. "But why a portkey?"

"Just to be safe, Harry."

I sighed. No matter how weird Dumbledore's requests got, they were always helpful and a huge life-saver. "Hold on tight, Isis, and close your eyes." The young girl complied. "Valor."

I closed my eyes and felt the two of us dematerialize away from the castle. After a few seconds, we rematerialized onto a wooden porch. I opened my eyes and looked at my surroundings. A cool breeze ruffled my hair.

"Where are we, Harry?" Isis looked up at me and tugged at the hem of my shirt.

I frowned. "Um . . . I think we're—"

A mid-aged man who bore a very close resemblance to James Potter opened the door. "James?" He looked at me, and then the girl. "What are you doing here? And who is that girl?"

"Erm. . . ." I can explain? By the look on Charles's face, this meeting would be an unhappy one.


	8. Unveiling the Truth

_Disclaimer: _This story is rated T, for PG-13: if you do not have a Sirius sense of humor, you may want to leave

* * *

Unveiling the Truth

_Harry's POV_

It was a tough situation, a very tough one indeed. Not to mention uncomfortable, awkward, and weird. Did I already mention uncomfortable? Well, I'll say it again. It was a very uncomfortable situation. Should I repeat the statement once more so you won't forget that it was an uncomfortable situation?

My 'father' was very perplexed by the idea of me bringing home a girl. I mean, what's wrong with bringing home a young girl? I just wanted to take care of her . . . and give her a proper childhood. I know what it's like to be raised under abusive guardians. I have been emotionally abused. I don't want anyone else to suffer the way I did. So what's wrong with wanting to care for others? Well, apparently, I'm just not responsible enough.

OoOoO

Harry stood in the frame of the open door and gulped down the scene before him. From outside, Harry made out a low-legged table surrounded by three large sofas and one large armchair. The floor was covered by a fluffy red carpet.

Harry turned back towards Charles. "T-this is the living room, right?"

The elder man bobbed his head. "Why don't you go on in and take a seat? I'll be right over."

Harry gave a polite nod and tugged at Isis's small arm. "C'mon."

Harry entered the living room and took a double-take at the ceiling before making his way towards one of the long suede sofas located in the middle of the room. Isis followed closely behind Harry and sat right next to Harry, clutching Harry's right hand tightly. Harry and Isis both admired the extravagantly-decorated room with awe. Isis, for one, was used to everything being of the poorest quality. Harry, on the other hand, was a bit surprised by how Muggle and neat everything in the room looked.

There was a beautiful chandelier right above where the sofas were located and it provided the entire room with more than enough light. There were small burgundy shelves fixated at each corner of the room, hosting some sort of medal or trophy. The wall directly behind of where Harry and Isis were sitting was covered with a large family tree, hosting moving pictures of each family member. Directly to the right, there was a Muggle television. Located to the left was the fireplace and was, as Harry guessed it, where the main Floo system was as well.

Isis nudged Harry's shoulder and gestured for him to lower his ear to her level. "This house is really pretty," Isis whispered into Harry's ear. Harry nodded. "Is this your house?"

Charles came into the room at that very moment, with a cigar in hand, and didn't give Harry a chance for to respond. The man automatically walked over and took the armchair in front of Isis and Harry. "Well James, you have some explaining to do." He took out a lighter and lit his cigar.

"Um. . . ." _My name is not James. I am the son of James Potter. From another universe, of course._

Charles gave a small, deep chuckle. For a second, Harry thought that he'd voiced out his thoughts out loud or that Charles had read his mind. But that wasn't the case. "James, when you told me that you'd be bringing home a girl home this summer, I was under the impression that you meant your . . . girlfriend." Charles pointed to Isis and sighed. "I didn't know you fancied girls this young."

Harry immediately jumped to defend himself. "No sir, that's not the case. Not at all."

Charles furrowed his eyebrows. He looked disappointed. "I thought we'd come a longer way than that. Why do you still call me that, James? I am your father."

Harry bit his tongue. He wasn't going to give away his identity too soon. "I'm sorry . . . dad." Harry shivered. It felt weird, calling someone that. He'd never uttered that word before. "Dad," Harry mumbled to himself.

Charles exhaled some smoke off to his side and turned back to Harry. "That's better. I remember you agreeing to call me that last summer. What happened, eh?" The old man chuckled a bit before coughing violently. "I thought that—ack!"

Harry wafted away some of the smoke. "Are you alright?"

Charles recovered and blinked his eyes tightly. "I'm alright James. It's just that the windows are all closed. Don't worry about it, son. Sámi!" A house-elf popped next to Mr. Potter's armchair.

The house-elf looked up at the guests and then at the man in the armchair. Sámi got onto one knee and asked, "What is you need, sir?"

Charles chucked. "Oh, you bugger. How many times do I have to tell you to stop doing that?"

Sámi bowed before picking up his head. He had an unusual grin on his face. "Too many to keep count, Sir Charles."

"Why don't you open up the windows? It's getting quite stuffy in here."

"If it pleases you, sire, then I shall get right to it." The house-elf popped away, but not before bowing one final time.

Charles grunted albeit amusedly. "Should have never taught that bugger proper English. Especially that lesson on sarcasm. He's using what I taught him against me! He knows I don't like being praised like that. We're all created equal, aren't we son?"

Harry perked his head up. "Huh?"

Charles grumbled. "Never mind. You never listen anyways. I'm just your old man. Don't worry about me." There was a brief awkward silence.

"You know that you shouldn't smoke that much," Harry added to get the conversation started again. "It's not good for you, especially at your age."

Charles chuckled. "You're just like your mother. She always used to tell me to stop smoking too." All of a sudden, Charles looked very tired. Wrinkles covered his entire forehead, making him look at least twice as old. "She always told me that if I let anything happen to you, she'd murder me. Castrate me!" Charles lowered his head. "I'll always be there for you, you know that?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Um . . . you know what happened last month? At school, right?"

James's father frowned. "Ah yes, your Quidditch accident?" Harry nodded. "I was there, you know. I went to see you while you were in the infirmary. I heard that you lost some of your memory, but you seem fine to me. But I had to come back before you even woke up. The work at the ministry is getting tougher with time. There's more and more reporting's of weird occurrences."

"Such as?" Harry asked. These occurrences were probably connected to Voldemort.

Charles sighed. "You always ask me the same question, James. And you already the answer." Charles set his cigar on the cigar holder on the table. "You're too young. Focus on your studies. When the time is right, I'll tell you everything that is to know about us. The Potter family isn't like any other Pureblood family. You should know that."

Harry was genuinely curious. He didn't know much about his ancestors. Maybe this would explain why Voldemort was always after the Potter family. "Why is that?"

Charles sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I explained everything last summer. Don't you ever pay attention?" Harry opened his mouth to respond but Charles cut him off. "Never mind. I don't have the energy to talk you through our vast family history right now."

Harry frowned this time. He was confused. James's father actually cared about James? But the Hogwarts newspaper article from last month had implied something else. And why did his father keep referring to last summer? Had James always been living with his father? Harry had been under the impression that the the Longbottoms were caring for James Potter. Well, at least that's what the newspaper said. Had the newspaper been wrong?

"Stupid journalists," Harry whispered to himself.

Charles perked his head up and pointed his right index finger at Harry. "Exactly, James. Now you're getting there. Finally, you understand the world of politics. For a while, I was under the impression that you'd never learn."

Harry feigned hurt. "That's not a nice thing to say to your son . . . _dad_."

Charles's face lit up at the word 'dad.' He smiled. "That's enough chit chatter James." He looked at Isis. "Why are you home so early? I was going to pick you up from King's Cross, just like I promised to in the beginning of the year. But then, you showed up right before I was about to leave the house. What happened? And who's this young lady?"

Harry sighed. _I'm not your son. _No, that wouldn't work too well. _I'm on a mission to defeat a dark lord on the rise. _Eh, too blunt. "I've decided to adopt this young girl." Harry pointed to Isis and stated as calmly as possible.

Charles stopped smiling. "You're joking, right? This is another one of those . . . things your friends at school play? You're playing a prank on me?"

Harry shook his head. "No si—I mean, no dad."

"Another one of your foolish pranks." Charles ignored Harry. "And this girl is actually Sirius under Polyjuice potion, no?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm not lying dad. She," he pointed to Isis, "showed up at Hogwarts a few weeks ago. She was a mess. Now, she's my responsibility."

Charles narrowed his eyes. "She's your responsibility?" Harry nodded. Isis, who had chosen to remain silent, buried her head into Harry's side. Charles looked up at the ceiling. "Says who? Where are her parents?"

"She had abusive parents. Dumbledore was going to send her to an orphanage but I took full responsibility of her."

Charles clutched his head with both hands. "You should have let Dumbledore send her to the orphanage! You're in no situation to take care of her!"

Harry clenched his teeth. "No, _dad_. She's my ward."

"Stubborn child," Charles mumbled to himself. He looked at Harry. "What's her name?" He turned towards the girl. "What's your name, child? Are you a witch?" Charles turned back to look at Harry. "She is a witch, right? She's not Muggle?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "What's wrong with her being Muggle?"

Isis peeped her head out from Harry's side and looked up at Charles. "I can make things move without my hands."

Charles sighed. "James, you are going to give me the girl and go upstairs right now."

Harry clutched both of Isis's hands in his own. "I'm afraid I can't do that, dad."

"Don't worry, James. I promise that she'll be safe inside of the orphanage. I've heard that they provide children with everything that one could want in his or her youth. Food, clothes, friends—"

"No, dad," Harry shook his head. "I'm not going to let her go. She's my ward. I've taken an oath to protect her."

"What?" Charles whispered harshly. "You what?" By the end of the sentence, he sounded desperate.

"I made an oath to protect her and always be there for her. Somewhere along those lines, at least."

"And you used your wand?" Charles asked. Harry nodded. "Do you know what this means?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded confidently. "I am her official magical guardian."

"You're too young!" Charles protested weakly. "You have your whole life ahead of you. You're still a teenager. You need to enjoy your youth while you still have it. After Hogwarts, you'll have all the responsibilities that you want. But now, you need to cherish the present, James. Don't burden yourself."

"Nothing can change my mind, dad." Harry added more calmly.

"Did you legalize yourself as guardian?" At Harry's blank expression, Charles added, "Did you register yourself with the ministry?"

Harry had never trusted the ministry and wasn't fond of it. "No. But I don't really trust the ministry."

Charles grunted. "Do I need to remind you that I work at the ministry? There are plenty of devoted members at the ministry."

"That's not what I meant, dad. But there's bound to be some corrupt individuals there who might use our personal information against us."

Charles brushed off Harry's concerns. "If you don't register yourself, you won't be considered her legal guardian. At any time, ministry officials can take her away from you."

"Really?" Harry hadn't known that. "Well in that case, I'll go right now and—"

"Not now," Charles pointed at the grandfather clock. "The office that you want to go to will probably close down early today."

"Then I'll go first thing in the morning," Harry replied.

Charles sighed. "I still think that assuming guardianship over her is not a wise decision. It will hurt your reputation, that's for sure."

"I don't care about my social standings," Harry argued.

"But you have to understand that your social status will affect your political standings as well. I want you to be successful in life."

"And by adopting this young girl, I won't be successful?"

Charles sighed. "Once this gets into the media, the reporters will spread all sorts of rumors."

"What will they say? I had sexual intercourse when I was three years old or something?"

Charles groaned. "They can twist the facts and make up stories that are bound to appeal to the audience. Perhaps about how I cheated on Dorea and forced you to adopt the girl so I wouldn't have to face any consequences. You have no idea what these wretched reporters do for a living. They mess up other people's lives."

Harry frowned. "You mean how the Hogwarts paper painted the murder of mum as your fault?"

"The Hogwarts paper did what?" Fury overtook Charles's face. "Who wrote the damn article?"

"I'm sure that she didn't mean write the article," Harry tried to calm down James's father.

"I'm sure she had some sort of benefit in painting me as a bad person! You don't know what these people do for money! I bet you Rookwood paid her some money. Damn Rookwood."

"So you weren't responsible for—"

"Does it look like I was responsible?" Charles asked, skewing his eyebrows so much that the edges were touching.

"I'm sorry for bringing it up, dad," Harry said calmly.

Charles closed his eyes. "Sámi!" The house-elf popped again. But he didn't bow down this time, knowing that the situation was tense and that this was not a time for jokes. "Bring me a glass of water."

Sámi nodded. "Yes Charles." The house-elf popped away and returned with a glass of water and a small pill. "I also has brought your pill."

Charles took the water and pill appreciatively. "That's not the correct way to say it. It's: 'I have also brought your pill,' not 'I also has brought your pill.' And thank you for your help."

"Yes sir. I will remember the next time." The elf popped away with an empty glass of water.

Charles clutched his forehead and laid his head back against the chair. Harry bit his tongue for asking too many questions. "I'm sorry for having brought up the topic, dad."

"It's quite alright." Charles kept his eyes closed.

Harry sighed. "I'll be much more responsible. I promise. You just watch."

Charles smiled but kept his eyes closed and his head pointed at the ceiling. "Well, it's about time that you became more responsible."

Isis stood up on the sofa, cupped her delicate hands around Harry's ear, and whispered, "Harry, I'm sleepy."

Harry nodded and licked his lips, wondering how to voice his question without angering Charles again. "Where will the girl sleep tonight? And what about me?"

Charles began to rock on the armchair. "I have a feeling that the girl won't be leaving your side anytime soon, correct?"

Harry nodded his head but then realized that Charles's eyes were closed. "Yes, dad."

"Well, just ask Sámi to place one of the beds from the guest rooms into your room. Just don't sleep in the same bed yet. I don't trust you."

Harry snickered lightly. "Why must you always think of me as a troublemaker?"

Charles opened his eyes and smiled. "Because you _are _a troublemaker, son."

"Of course I am," Harry agreed sarcastically.

"I still don't know her name. I don't want to keep referring to the pretty lady anonymously." He looked at Isis. "What's her name?"

Harry was about to speak up but Isis beat him to it. "My name is Isis."

Charles nodded. "A beautiful name. Well, why don't you tour Isis around the house, James? I guess she'll be . . . a Potter soon." At this, Harry grinned crookedly. He had a family at last.

OoOoO

_Charles's POV_

I care for James deeply. I don't think that stubborn child will ever understand that. He is quite stubborn. He gets that from Dorea, that's for sure. Just like his mother.

I'm not against Isis. No, not at all. As a matter of fact, I'm falling in love with the young girl. She is an angel. I think she deserves a good life and we can provide her with one easily. But I don't trust James. He doesn't think things through. I don't think he knows what he's getting himself into. He has to worry about school. And from what I've seen, he doesn't give full attention to his duties at school. How is he going to cope with caring for a young child?

And think about all the rumors that will circulate around not only in Hogwarts, but in the ministry and the Wizarding world in general. I just want James to be successful in life. Such rumors might discredit him. I want him to be a great leader, perhaps even become the Minister of Magic one day. But he's not turning out the way I wanted him to be.

And marriage is another big problem. Many of the better-off families don't give their daughters' hands in marriage to those who already have children. It has happened to my great-great grandfather before. And does James not understand his responsibility as head of the Potter family? My greatest fear is passing on and not having someone to precede my position. I want James to at least be able to handle some of the basic political positions and obligations, like taking care of the two seats at Wizengamot.

I'm scared for James. He still hasn't shown any improvement in his behavior at school. He also promised me last summer that he'd fix up his act. Oh, and he said that he had a girlfriend. I was really excited. I mean, it's never too early to arrange a marriage with a good family. Instead of coming home with a viable future wife, he came home with a daughter. I just hope that I haven't let Dorea down.

OoOoO

Lily Evans stood outside the train compartment with a thin leather book in hand. She brought up her hand and knocked on the door. After a few moments of silence, the door slid open and revealed the face of Sirius Black.

Lily quickly spoke up, as she wanted to get away from the troublemakers as quickly as possible. "Can I see James for a minute or two?"

Sirius gaped at the redhead before rubbing his eyes. "And who are you?"

Lily scowled before rolling her eyes. "It's Lily, you dingbat."

Sirius nodded amusedly. "And what did you need?"

Lily sighed. "I need to see James."

Sirius frowned and smacked his right ear. "Erm, could you please repeat that please?"

Lily wrinkled her nose. "Just send him out here. I need to give him something."

Sirius cleared his throat and stiffened forthcoming laughter. "Who did you need?"

Lily stomped her foot in frustration. "I said I want to see James!"

"Oh Merlin!" Sirius pursed his lips but eventually let free a laugh. "You said James three times in a row!"

Lily frowned. "No I didn't." Instantly she blushed at her mistake. "I said Potter. Get your ears checked."

Sirius began mumbling to himself. "And you wanted to give _James _something? What is it, might I ask? A love letter? Your complete devotion to the one and only James Potter?"

Lily showed Sirius the green book. "Fine, just give him this book. If he won't come out, I don't care."

Sirius cringed and rubbed the back of his neck. "But the thing is that James isn't here right now. You see, we haven't seen him since this morning." Sirius replied quite seriously.

"Where is he then?" Lily asked, taking the green book back. "I don't trust you with this."

Sirius scrutinized his gaze on the book. "A book? Why would James need a book?"

Lily rolled her eyes. "Never mind. It's something personal. If you see him, just tell him that I have his green book." Lily started to walk away.

"James hasn't opened a single textbook this year, Lily-hon. What makes you think that book even belongs to him?"

"Whatever," Lily quickened her pace. In reality, Lily was curious as to what James had written in his diary. And was this really his diary or just something that he'd meant for Lily to pick up? Like another end-of-the-year prank, aimed specifically at her?

"If you see him, can you tell him that his friends are bloody worried?" Sirius shouted after Lily. "We'd really appreciate it."

OoOoO

_Harry's POV_

I had no clue where my room was. Well, that's not my fault, is it? It's just that the house was so ginormous! Is that even a word? Well anyways, it turns out that the whole newspaper article was propaganda at its peak. Some of the stuff that Lily wrote was probably true but she was still bias. She painted both my dad and I as bad people in that article. I guess that's why you should always use credible sources when doing something like this. Or did Lily purposely put false information in that article? I don't know. And why didn't Dumbledore or any of the other teachers stop her?

Anyways, Isis and Charles are starting to get along together really nicely. During dinner, she even admitted that Charles was more like a real father while I was like her older brother. That's cute. Wait, that's not cute- ugh! She's having that effect on me- now I'm starting to use more immature diction.

Right after the sumptuous meal, Isis fell asleep. I helped, of course, by singing a nice little lullaby. Charles was amazed that I could sing. I'm surprised that James's voice didn't crack much. He sounds much like I did in my own body. Whoa . . . awkward alert! This conversation is getting awkward, with me talking about my past and my body and then about James's body and how he has a smaller wiener than I did when - yeah, I'm going to stop now.

OoOoO

"Vladimir, do you have news? Anything I should be concerned about?"

A young man with long brown hair and green eyes, probably in his twenties or so, smirked. "Why do you ask, Tom?"

"How dare you!" The other man snarled. "Address me by my proper name."

"I'm not afraid of you, Tom." Vladimir's green eyes danced venomously as he watched the other man get up and storm over towards him.

"I'm warning you, Vladimir."

Vladimir's eyes darkened. "And I'm warning you, Riddle. I'm only here to get my revenge. If you want to work together, you'll have to accept that we're equals."

The other man snorted. "I have no equal."

Vladimir chuckled gaily. "Says the wizard whose sorry arse I whopped thrice in a row in battle."

Tom Riddle grinded his teeth. His appearance was, more or less, human still. "I've been having very odd visions."

Vladimir rolled his eyes. "You mean to say that you had a couple of dreams?"

Riddle drew his wand dangerously close to Vladimir's temple. "You're testing my patience far too much."

"Kill me. I dare you, Tom." At this, the other wizard lowered his wand. "That's what I thought."

"Have there been any weird occurrences in the ministry?"

Vladimir shrugged. "Nothing important. Just a few prophecies have been added to the Hall of Prophecies. Nothing to fret over."

Tom's head perked up. "And when did this happen?"

"It happened last month." Vladimir casually replied.

"Why didn't you tell me about this before?" Tom drew his wand at Vladimir again. "I'm asking you a question, Vladimir!"

"I don't know Tom." Vladimir shrugged indifferently. "I didn't feel like it."

Tom Riddle snarled. "_Avada Kedavra_!" The green spell leapt from his wand and rushed towards the other man. Just as the spell was about to hit the man, he vanished.

"You can't kill me, Tom." A voice spoke up from behind Tom, startling him as always. "You should know that by now."

* * *

A/N/1: No comment about long update. I just got lazy.

A/N/2: Review and tell me where you think this story is going or where you want to take this story. And I'm still open for pairings regarding Harry.


	9. Lies Crash Against the Shore

_Disclaimer: _This story is rated T, or PG-13: if you are unsure of your age, you may want to leave . . . and go to your nearest clinic to get a full checkup.

* * *

Lies Crash Against the Shore

_Harry's POV_

I woke up the next day with a fresh smile in mind. Even before I had opened my eyes, I felt an aura of mirth in the air around me. I could sense warm shades of yellow circling my body. I stretched my arms out on the soft bed mattress, the tips of my fingers touching the headboard. I wasn't expecting anything eccentric to take place. In other words, I was off-guard; completely and totally off guard. From experience, however, I was able to sense and locate an unusual warmth aimed at the center of my forehead. My eyes still closed, I brought my hands to my temple and frowned. My sixth sense sparked up.

I opened my eyes. "Ah!" A stream of bright light interrupted my scope of view. In attempt to shield myself from the light, I quickly brought up both hands in front of my face and jumped up from sleeping position. I rolled to the ground just in case that it was some harmful jinx. What type of terrible person (or thing) was trying to attack me while I was still asleep? I flattened myself to the ground, not caring for the dust on the floor. I waited silently, hoping to surprise my attacker, if there was one to begin with. But I was pretty sure that there was one. So I stayed immobile. My heartbeat bounced around in my ribcage wildly, my brain felt numbed. An impulse jerked through my back, sparking up heightened senses.

After a few seconds of silence, I slowly peeked my head from the bottom corner of the bed. Being the stupid Gryffindor I am, and will always be, I shouted, "Show yourself!" I quickly pointed my wand from under the bed at the predicted source of light. My echo reverberated around the empty room. The air around me grew silent, cooler by the second.

I slowly got up from the wooden floor and dragged my knees against the hard floor. I looked directly at the scene of suspicion. I scrutinized my gaze on the hazy light."Wait a second . . ." I muttered to myself. I blinked my eyes a couple of times and got a clearer picture of the suspect. "Honestly?" Was _that_ really what had been trying to "attack" me?

I got up on both feet. "Bugger." I sighed deeply and surveyed the lavish furniture scattered around me in the room. _Where am I? _I wondered. I didn't recognize the room. I didn't recall anything at all. I scratched my head. I tried to think, analyze the situation. But I could not. I could only observe. Then, as if it could sense no danger, my body went back to its normal state. I can't really explain it. All of a sudden, memories ebbed back into my subconscious like water rushing out from a broken dam. I suddenly remembered where I was. And with whom I was. The wrinkles on my forehead simply walked off stage. I chuckled lightly and rapped my palm against the side of my head. Silly me. I rolled my eyes at my nonsensical paranoia and exited the bedroom. Where was I? That was a ridiculous question to have asked, wasn't it? I was inside the ancestral house of Potters.

Now that I look back at my experience from the morning, I find it quite interesting and embarrassing. It seems that some sort of preset mechanism put my body into overdrive, shutting down all bodily functions except those necessary for survival. I forgot where I was; I forgot what I was supposed to be doing; I lost all rational thought. Just my crude instinct remained. I mean, how else could I not have been able to register that the "attacker" was actually just a stream of sunlight.

That's right. Sunlight. It had only been the sunlight that had bothered me while I lay in bed – sunlight filtering in through vertical blinds. Blinding light. Blinding me.

OoOoO

Lily Evans sat cross-legged on her bed. She had just woken from a long night's sleep. She rubbed her eyes and was about to get started on her daily routine when she noticed a slim book on the desk next to her bed. For a moment, she did not recognize it as her property. But that was because it wasn't hers to begin with.

She reached over to grab it. She recognized it immediately. It was the green book. The little book. The odd one.

After retrieving the green book, the young teen laid down with her stomach on the mattress. She bit her lip and surveyed the book. It was his diary, wasn't it? Or at least, that's what he had made it seem.

Lily felt nervous. She wanted to open it and read its contents. Yet, she did not wish to go against her ethics. It was _wrong _to invade the privacy of another. But this was James Potter. Did the boy have any secrets? Did he even require privacy? And most importantly, _why_ would_ he_ keep a _diary_? It surely wasn't a diary. It couldn't be a diary. Lily frowned again. But could it really be his diary? Was it a diary at all? Perhaps it was some sort of book in which the four mischievous boys outlined the highlights of their upcoming pranks at school. Or maybe, it could be an empty notebook. Lily turned the book over, hoping the back would provide some more information. But it didn't. Could this possibly be full of blank pages? Lily recalled not having gone past the first page, which had simply been an introduction page of some sort, upon first picking it up in Hogwarts. She had closed the diary right after reading the first page, feeling uncomfortable invading others' privacy.

It was wrong, by all means, to open the book. Lily shook her head. Who was she to wander about in other individuals' business? Lily decided to hand James back the book on the train ride to Hogwarts after summer break. Lily nodded to herself. She would do just that. She would not look into the matter any further. Lily reached out and opened the drawer next to her bed. But just as the book slipped from her hands, Lily firmly grabbed it with the tips of her fingers again. Lily looked abashed. Why did she have the urge to learn more about Potter? Or was he James now?

Lily huffed. She was confused. Potter had been so different throughout the year. He started off the school year as arrogant and pompous as ever. But, he ended partially reserved. The end-of-the-season Quidditch game had changed everything. The last month had Lily wondering who Potter really was. Was he more than he let on? Had he actually changed personality-wise? Or was it all a show? Had he been arrogant at all? Or was that a show to gain some sort of reputation?

Lily looked at the book. Whatever had changed him, she was determined to find it. And if he hadn't changed but simply let himself off more sincerely, she was still determined to find out why he had done so. Lily would go against her own rules today. If James had changed, so would she. Perhaps this was all part of growing up. Maybe she would have to see things through a more mature perspective.

Despite the logical aspect of the argument, there was an emotional factor as well: the temptation to learn more about the boy was very overwhelming as well. And besides, if the diary truly was a fraud, it couldn't hurt to read what was inside of the book. Even if the diary was a diary, Lily was confident that Potter wouldn't have written much inside his little book.

But what if there was personal information inside of the book? Lily doubted herself once more.

Lily sighed. "It's either now or never." Lily murmured to herself. Whatever obstacle was to come, she would step over it. The redhead drew in a deep breath and ran her finger across the smooth cover of the green book. "James . . . Potter." Lily whispered lightly. Her cool breath brushed against the book's hard name echoed inside of Lily's mind. It felt odd, whispering his name to herself in private.

Lily watched intently. The mechanisms, whatever they were, got to work right away. She could hear a deep hum of magic coming from inside of the diary. She felt her her finger tremble on top of the book. Suddenly, the latch on the book swung open and the book's cover flew open so the cover page was plain in sight.

The message on the first page was the same as last time. It read:

_This is the diary of James Potter. Sirius, if you managed to open it, I'm going to kill you. Remus, please don't spread any rumors. Pete . . . be a nice kid and hand it right back._

After reading through the message this time, Lily actually smiled. She could almost imagine James warning each of his friends in different tones. Lily examined the page and the ink blots on it, wondering whether she should flip the page or not. The writing seemed genuine and the page itself seemed to be quite aged. Lily looked up from the book and out the bedroom window. She continued to gaze at the summer sky. The more she looked into it, the more evidence she found that validated her conclusion that this was, in fact, the diary of James Potter. How else could the pages be so wrinkled and aged? Would Potter really have made his prank seem so realistic? Did he have the time to make his efforts that worth it?

Lily shook her head. This was ridiculous. Lily looked at the alarm clock. Twenty minutes had passed since she started arguing with herself. She was getting absolutely nowhere. "That's it." Lily grumbled to herself. She _would _flip the page, and that was final!

Lily licked her lips and quickly turned the page without any second thoughts. Whatever she was expecting to be on the next page, it was not this. Lily frowned. This wasn't James's handwriting. For a second, Lily worried that this was a completely different James Potter from whom she had taken the diary. Regardless, she read the first entry.

_March 27, 1965_

_Dear James's Diary,_

_As James does not know how to write yet, I shall be writing the entries for him for the first few days. Hopefully, he will be motivated enough to write what little he can soon. Even if it a few words. So please bear with him. Even now, he is complaining of how feminine (or girly, to quote him verbatim) this whole keeping-a-diary situation is. But, this will eventually be of immense relief later on in his years to come. Look at me, rambling on about a topic so obsolete!_

_Anyhow, let us get down to business. Today was James's fifth birthday. Mama's so proud of you! Nothing much happened. He received tons of presents, believe it or not. Many of our relatives came over, including folks from both sides of our family. Friends as well. The Longbottom heir (Frank, wasn't that his name dear? Ah, it was.) was very kind to little James. He introduced James to all the family members. This is probably the first birthday party we've had where we invited anyone at all. Usually, it's only been the three of us. Four, if you include the house-elf._

Lily frowned. She didn't know why but she couldn't keep her eyes from reading the rest of the entry. The story was all too tempting. Was this really James's mother who was writing?

_Well, it seems to be getting late and James is getting quite sleepy. (No James, don't complain sweetheart. It's definitely bedtime.) Hopefully, James will be motivated enough to write by next week. I know he's been complaining but I feel that this is a way for him to cope with any arising problems in the household. Of course, these problems are best to be recorded by James himself, so I shall close off today's entry by saying that I love you more than anything, James. I can already predict your time at Hogwarts. You will be as noble as your father (who is too noble for his own good but he does not understand this!) but will also be quite the charmer. Hopefully, you will settle for someone who is good for you. If you are reading this in the future, please implement my advice ASAP. Of course, little James has not a single clue as to what I am talking about. Oh sweetheart, aren't you adorable? Yes you are!_

_And because he is so persistent, I will allow little Jamie to sign his name below._

_Yours truly,_

_J a M S_

_P.S. Isn't that so sweet? From now on, I am going to call you Jams! Come here, Jams sweetie, it's time for bed._

By the end of the diary entry, Lily was speechless. She couldn't believe it. This was actually the diary of James Potter. The one and only, James Potter. Not some phony, but the real deal. James Potter!

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Lily shrieked silently, jumped up from her bed, and threw the book onto the rug where it slid across the room under her study table. Her head swung towards the bedroom door. A voice filtered from outside. "Lily, honey, are you awake yet?" Without warning, her mother entered. She eyed Lily from her perspective and frowned. "Is everything alright, honey?" Lily's mother frowned and rushed towards her daughter. "You look pale. Are you sick?"

Lily's eyes widened as she squeaked out, "I'm fine."

OoOoO

_Harry's POV_

"And your name is?" The mid-aged woman asked.

"Harry Potter," I replied. I tried to act professional but failed terribly.

The woman on the front desk frowned. "_Harry_ Potter?"

Strike one!

I stammered for a few seconds before collecting myself by making a lame excuse. "I'm James _Harry _Potter. My friends gave me that nickname. Harry, that is." Stupid, stupid me! I have to stop yelling out my real name in public. It might get me in trouble someday, sooner than later.

The witch nodded uncertainly. "You're Charles's kid?"

"Correct," Harry replied firmly. I pretended to straighten my green vest. Standing next to me was little Isis, dressed up in all rainbow. She twirled on her tiptoes and waved at some passerbyers, who smiled back in reply.

In the morning when Isis and I were preparing to go to the Ministry, she brought up a trunk of multicolored clothing. She insisted on wearing a rainbow-colored dress, a rainbow colored blouse, rainbow-striped knee socks, a rainbow-colored tuque, rainbow-colored fingerless gloves. She claimed to have found everything in one of the closets on the third floor of the Potter mansion, and would have started crying (I'm pretty sure of it) had I told her to choose from another selection of attire. When Charles calmly asked why she insisted on wearing the ridiculous outfit, she replied by saying rainbow was her favorite color. Charles looked at me with a look of warning.

What was I to do? I tried very hard to convince her into choosing a more concrete color, but she outright refused to do so. She is quite stubborn. Where do you suppose she inherited that trait from? Perhaps that's just a common trait amongst the female population. (I'm just kidding!) She also reminded me quite a lot of someone I knew from my world, someone just as odd and jocund. She used to attract just as much attention to herself. Maybe Isis is related to her. Or perhaps, it's just me overlooking the playfulness of children. I suppose walking with a young girl dressed in colorful clothes is bound to attract a bit of attention and trouble. Well anyway, back to the creepy lady.

"What is your business here, Mr. Potter?" The woman queried.

"My business here?" I frowned. Correct me if I'm wrong but isn't the job of the person behind the front desk to check wands and inhibit suspicious activity? Then why was this woman asking me unnecessary questions? "Ma'am, I believe you are present here to check wands of incomers, nothing more. I am here to for an important family matter. My dad asked me to carry it out."

"What family matter are you referring to?" the woman asked. "If it were important, I'm sure Charles would have resolved it by himself. In fact, I saw him just a few minutes ago. He didn't seem worried."

Strike two!

I fidgeted mentally but kept a stoic exterior. "It's something important that Charles wished for me to carry out on my own. He wanted to become a more responsible person, and wished for me to start caring for family matters on my own. May I have my wand back now? I believe you're done inspecting it."

The woman surveyed my wand once more. "Are you sure this wand is yours?"

"Yes, it's mine." I replied. I slowly rubbed circles on my temples. When I looked back at the woman, she was looking at me with much suspicion. I frowned. Had I failed the entry exam or something? Was there something on my face? Something wrong with my logic? Because . . . oh wait. I blinked my eyes.

Strike three!

This really wasn't _my_ wand. It was James's wand. Again, I collected myself and kept as stoic as possible. I was not willing to play twenty question anymore. All the tension in my head was ready to explode. Yet, this woman seemed to be a nice job of worsening the situation.

"What is your business here again?" She asked evenly. I watched her right hand as it went under the reception desk. She twisted her arm and placed her hand back on top of the desk. I swore I could have heard some sort of _click_ or _tap_.

"I just stated it." I gritted my teeth. This woman was stalling me. And for a good reason. A reason I didn't know but would eventually find out.

The woman nodded and kept looking behind me. "As I said, that is an invalid reason to be here. Besides, children aren't allowed into the ministry without being accompanied by parents or guardians."

I narrowed eyes. Who was she calling child? "I'm an emancipated minor, _madame._" Charles had told me that this morning. This woman was honestly strangling my nerves. I looked at the desk; it was clean of any loose papers or writing utensils. She wasn't even writing down any of what I was saying. Why was she asking in the first place? Her eyes kept looking behind me. Was she expecting security to come in and kick Isis and I out?

"I'm actually referring to-"

"I don't know!" I threw up my hands into the air, attracting some attention to the front desk. "Just let us through!"

The woman brought her gaze back onto my face and glowered. "Your generation ought to show more respect for elders."

I stared back defiantly. She was going way too far. I remember that she had let the person before me inside in just seconds. Why was she holding me back? Did I honestly look that suspicious? "And its your type of people that needs to learn to earn it."

By then, we were both ready to pull out into an arena for a wizard duel. Our wills clashed as we stared at one another, her stormy blue eyes chipping at my stoic expression bit by bit. Luckily, Isis acted as an intermediary.

Isis pulled on my arm, making her face visible to the lady behind the front desk for the first time. "Harry, let's go." She looked at the woman behind the desk and shivered. "I don't like her."

I looked away and gathered some sense into my brain. Then, I watched an interesting interaction between Isis and the woman. Did they know one another, perhaps?

The woman looked down at Isis with a contemplative frown. The woman's eyes rested on Isis's face before slowly drifting to my forehead. It was as if she could see something that nobody else could. I, feeling self-conscious, reached to cover my scar but realized that it wasn't there. The woman slowly withdrew her gaze and handed my wand back. Her demeanor changed completely. All of sudden, she became calm and collected. "Off you go, Mr. Potter." She put her right hand under the desk, twisted her arm, and brought it up again. I perked my ears closely. There was that _click _again!

I would have investigated the _clicking _sound but had more important matters to attend to. I turned my head and looked at the clock on the wall. I gaped. Ten minutes! Can you believe it? Ten minutes wasted bickering with some wand checker. I pocketed my wand quickly and collected the visitor passes from the woman. "Thank you," I said briskly, careful to make my voice sting. The woman acknowledged my barely pleasant tone with a nod, but remained silent. Just as I turned away, I caught sight of her name written on the front desk: Roxanne Lancaster.

I began walking in the opposite direction toward the magical lifts. Why had the woman acted so unusually? Not that I cared; I didn't have time to care. I casually turned my head and looked across my shoulder. I caught her gaze on Isis's back. Upon being discovered, the woman rushed back to some paperwork. As if! What kind of paperwork would she have to do? Her desk had been clear free of paperwork. I frowned and looked at the girl next to me. She seemed to be the key to my answers. And to my problems.

"Say Isis," I tried to prod the topic gently, but was rather straightforward, "why did you say you didn't like her?"

Isis looked up and gazed back into my eyes. "She could see into our magic," Isis replied seriously.

I frowned. "She could what?"

Isis shrugged. "I don't know. I just think so."

"No, why do you think that?" I asked. We boarded the lift. There wasn't anyone else on it. I hit a button and redirected my attention to the little girl.

"That's what I think," Isis mumbled.

"I understand that. But why?" I pried her for a more concrete answer. How had she been able to realize that the woman had looked into our magic? Was she making this up? Or did Isis have some sort of magical talent that I was unaware of?

"I don't know!" Isis huffed and crossed her arms across her chest, putting on a fake, but cute, frown.

I just had to chuckle at her antics and momentarily forgot about the issue about the woman. "Okay, whatever you say pumpkin." I teased her purposely, knowing exactly how she would react.

Isis wrinkled her nose. "I'm not a pumpkin!"

I laughed again. Classic! I stopped and looked at Isis. She was special, that girl was. I could already tell. I didn't want to worry her with the topic of the peculiar woman so I feigned a cheery mood. "Let's forget about the creepy lady, shall we?"

Isis nodded. "Yeah, let's do that. The old lady was really spooky."

"Spooky, eh?" I chuckled halfheartedly. Now that I look back, I admit the woman was pretty intimidating. And eerily familiar too. She looked like someone I knew. But then again, I say that about almost everybody. "Spooky," I repeated.

The lift opened. I led Isis towards a corridor to the left.

"Where are we going?" Isis asked.

"Dunno," I replied with a smile.

Isis put a full stop to her feet. "Are you saying we're lost?"

I looked back at the girl and smiled wider. "I'm just pulling your hair. I definitely know where we're going."

Isis huffed. "You're so mean."

I laughed. "It's not like you would care if we got lost." Isis was beginning to open up to me quite a lot.

Isis decided to stop talking to me for the rest of the way to our destination. I chose to play along, knowing that it would be Isis who would finally break the silence, not me. My predictions turned out to be quite valid when we stopped in front of a door decorated with pictures of children. "What is this?" Isis asked.

I turned the doorknob cautiously but didn't budge open the door. I let go of the doorknob. I was unsure of what lay in store. I had never explored the ministry much, certainly not as much as I had Hogwarts, and was somewhat of a foreigner there. As for the family business matter, Charles had given me instructions as to where to go to solve it but not what to do once I got there. That part, I would have to solve on my own. I stopped outside the door to answer the girl's question. "This is the adoption center, Isis."

Isis's eyes widened. "The adoption center?" She whispered.

I nodded. "It's a magical adoption center where we can verify and make everything official." I looked at her and noticed glee and awe written all over her rosy cheeks. "Hold onto your smile, will you? Don't let it fall to the ground."

Isis looked up at me and didn't say anything. She didn't need to. Her eyes did the speaking.

I smiled and pulled Isis into a hug. "You're a lovely little pumpkin. Decorated in rainbow, of course."

'Stop calling me that!" Isis punched my thigh sharply. I winced but chuckled in reply.

"Are you two here for something?" A voice interrupted. I looked up and caught sight of a cheerful man. The man had opened the door and was looking at the two of us fondly. Oh joy, another old man in my life! But he had a truthful way of presenting himself. "I assume you two are here for important business matters?"

I smiled. "Right you are sir." This man emanated an aura of mirth. I liked him already.

The man led us into his office and closed the door behind him. "Have a seat, Mister . . . ?"

"Harry Potter, sir. James Harry Potter."

OoOoO

Harry exited the room with two papers in hand. One was a copy of the certificate that stated that he was the official guardian of Isis Potter. The other was a list of different locations that he could visit to receive guidance on caring for the little girl. He folded both sheets of paper and put them into his pockets.

"Where to now?" Harry asked. He was eager to show Isis different parts of the magical world to familiarize her with the Wizarding World in general.

Isis looked up and shrugged ever-so-innocently. "It's up to you, _Dad_."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Please do call me Harry."

Isis huffed. "Only if you stop calling me pumpkin!"

Harry smiled. "So it's official then? You want to go to Diagon Alley?"

"Diagon Alley?" Isis shrugged once more. "I dunno. I'm just hungry."

"Well then," Harry mused, "let's look for some super fancy restaurant in which our beautiful Isis can dine in."

Isis blushed. "You're so embarrassing!"

"Mr. Potter is quite right, though, is he not?" A voice interrupted their conversation. Harry turned around and came face-to-face with Mr. Flamel.

"Mr. Flamel?" Harry frowned. "What are you doing here?"

"I believe that I work here, do I not?" Mr. Flamel smiled. He looked at Isis and then at Harry, similar to how the creepy woman had eyed the two. "Is your business here complete?"

Harry frowned. "How did you know why we're here?"

"I did not. I am just inferring." Flamel replied. "But that is not of my concern."

"It's not?" Harry asked curiously.

"Not quite." Flamel shook his head. "Tell me, Harry. Do you have that card I gave you when we first met at Hogwarts?"

Harry dug into his pockets. He fished out his wallet and took out the card in question. "Why is this important?"

Flamel smiled. He gestured both Isis and Harry towards the other side of the hallway. "Follow me. I believe I have something that may interest you."

Harry grabbed Isis's hand and followed Flamel. "What exactly would interest me?"

"Have you visited the Hall of Prophecies yet?" Flamel asked. It was a rhetorical question, of course. Harry shook his head. Flamel had anticipated the reply. "Well, a few prophecies have appeared in the hall. I believe that one of them may relate to you. Actually, quite a few might, but I know for sure one of them is solely about you."

"Prophecy?" Harry croaked out. Already? He didn't want the fate of the world to rest in his hands again so soon. He had barely gotten any time to relax and be more of a normal teenager.

As if reading his mind, Flamel turned around and gave Harry a comforting smile. "Remember that you are never alone, Harry. You never were."

Harry found this statement hard to believe. He nodded anyway. "Will this take long?"

Flamel opened a door. Instead of it leading to a room, the door turned out to be some sort of secret entrance to a lift that led directly to the Department of Mysteries. "I assure you that you will have more than ample time to show Isis around. You have all summer. But I believe the prophecy is quite important, is it not?"

Harry sighed and agreed grudgingly. He'd actually begun to enjoy being a normal teenager. Well, no completely normal, but _still_. But Flamel was right. The prophecy was something that should not be overlooked. Voldemort, after all, was probably on the rise again. "Do you think the prophecy will be any different form the one I had?"

Flamel closed the door to the lift once the three individuals were safely inside and pushed the only button on it. "That will most likely be the case. Your arrival here has interrupted the equilibrium of magic. If you'd like, I can explain this in more detail."

Harry shrugged. "Sure."

The lift descended at a steady pace. Flamel put on a contemplative face and finally replied, "Think of it as the Muggle scientists' theory of the butterfly effect. Have you heard of it?"

Harry nodded. "I've heard of it. I understand the basic concept."

"Your arrival here has created a magical wave that, upon impact with several magical objects, altered their structure. This is turn altered their function. This alteration, in the end, affected the fate of everyone in this universe."

Harry was deeply perplexed. "I am clueless, sir."

Flamel chuckled. "Consider this scenario: you drop a pebble into a still-water lake. What do you see happening as the seconds tick by?"

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" Harry asked. Flamel nodded and gestured for him to elaborate. "Well, the pebble creates waves that expand in all directions until they hit something."

Flamel brought up his finger. "Ah! Repeat the last part."

Harry frowned. "When the waves hit something, they stop going outwards."

"And precisely what happens, do you know?" Harry shrugged, not knowing how to respond. Flamel explained the phenomenon. "Well, the waves bounce back, don't they?" Harry nodded. "The waves bouncing back collide with other ones and create an interruption pattern."

Harry nodded. "What does this have anything to do with my arrival?"

The lift stopped and opened, revealing an obsidian black corridor. There was an array of doors in every direction. "Please follow closely behind." Flamel directed them to the door to the far northeast. The two adolescents followed the elderly man, listening to his explanation of the pebble situation. "Everywhere around us, there are magical entities. They emit magical waves that range anywhere from a few nanometers to several kilometers in all directions. Of course, we cannot identify which entities are magical or not and do not know how to even locate them. However, they are always here, and these entities affect more practical parts of daily life." Flamel turned around and smiled. "Here's a fun fact: time is affected by magical currents emitted from magical entities around us."

Harry frowned. "What exactly are magical entities?"

Flamel chuckled deeply. "You're asking me, young man, what magical entities are?" Flamel shook his head in amusement. "The Department of Mysteries has yet to learn much more about these magical entities, but we have observed several things and come up with important premises that affect the way our world works. We are still learning more about this odd subject. You might want to ask an expert researcher, not me."

"What does this have to do with me?" Harry asked once again.

"Your arrival here impacted multiple magical entities, altering the equilibrium and way of life here. Imagine yourself landing from free fall during the Quidditch accident. When the body of James Potter impacted the ground, your magic fully entered and merged with James Potter's magic. This created an invisible shockwave that rippled in all directions, affecting magical entities in the area; the shockwave may have had a global impact if we take the Muggle butterfly effect literally. When the shockwave from your incident interfered with the magical currents of the magical entities nearby, there were interruption patterns. These interruption patterns, when looked at closely, created areas of dense chaotic magic that altered the system's entropy. To attain equilibrium, several changes occurred simultaneously. These minor changes caused other changes to occur. As the changes branched out, the changes became more and more significant. Ultimately, the timeline of this universe was altered. The excess magic from the collision was eventually lost to the environment as heat."

Harry sighed with frustration. This Flamel person wasn't making any sense. Instead of explaining, he was confusing the poor young man. "I'm afraid I do not quite understand anything you've tried to explain." Isis silently nodded in agreement and pretended to be a part of the intelligible conversation.

"Perhaps it's better to forget the topic of magical entities," Flamel said. "All I am trying to say is that your arrival here left a large hole in the fabric of magic and time. To repair itself, the universe is making necessary adjustments to compensate for the shift in equilibrium."

"Are you talking figuratively now, sir?" Harry mused. "Is the universe really repairing itself? Is there really a hole . . . in the universe. Or rather, in magic and time?"

"I am discussing the issue in both ways; partially figurative, partially not." Flamel replied carefully.

Harry scratched his head. "Let's forget about it then, shall we?"

Flamel nodded. "It is probably wise to not confuse your brain with this unnecessary logic. But do not forget it. No, never forget the past. However, simply realize that had you not arrived, things would have turned out to be quite different."

"How so, sir?"

"Well, for one." Flamel finally led them into the Hall of Prophecies. Crystal balls were lined in tall shelves stacked in long corridors. "There would have been different prophecies. For another," Flamel looked at Isis, "some individuals may not be present here today. Or alive, as a matter of fact."

Harry shivered, understanding the seriousness of the situation. "Do you mean . . . ."

Flamel shook his head. "I cannot know for sure. I can only assume. Let's leave the matter at rest." Flamel pointed to the fifth aisle. "Come. We must review your prophecy."

A great ache settled into Harry's heart. Suddenly, he felt his mind fall into an abyss of despair. "Where is it?" The young man croaked.

Flamel pointed to an aisle a few feet away. "They are there."

"Are there more than one?" Harry asked.

"Yes, but only one is designated for you." The three stopped in front of the aforementioned shelf and admired the beauty of the crystal balls, Harry and Isis more so than wizened Flamel. The old man carefully stretched out his arms and welcomed a blue-green prophecy ball into his wrinkled hands. He had an odd smile on his face as he turned to face Harry. "I believe you should listen carefully. With help, I'm sure you will have no difficulty eliminating the uprising dark lord."

Isis, who had stayed quiet for the entire trip, spoke up with a gasp. "Dark lord?" She tugged on Harry's arm. Harry looked down and realized Isis was beginning to squirm a bit. "I don't like it in here."

"This is very important, child." Flamel looked down at the girl kindly. "Your guardian has a very important mission to accomplish." Mission seemed the wrong word to use.

Harry took the prophecy and looked into it with a bland expression. The young man shook the prophecy and activated it. Turbulent currents of fog began to swirl inside the ball. An eerie voice crackled and began to speak.

_The lost wanderer and guardian_

_angel will lead a path,_

_split into two and then again,_

_strive for whatever is right._

_The dark will rise, only this once,_

_carried on the shoulders of flight._

_Magus of time will have to choose_

_grey, deceitful, ally of might._

_Two souls bound by fate._

_Two souls bound by love._

_Two souls in one body, _

_two bodies in one soul_

_All shall fight until _

_the strike of light._

_Plummet to death,_

_uncelebrated hero._

_Plummet to death._

Harry and Isis both looked up as the voice faded away. Isis was pale. "Can we go home now?" She squeaked out. The woman's voice hadn't made the tone of the prophecy any more optimistic.

Flamel took the prophecy from Harry's hand. "I hope you understand your mission." He placed the prophecy back on the shelf and turned around. "Any questions, Mr. Potter?"

"The lost wanderer?" Harry mumbled.

Flamel nodded. "You are he, I believe."

Harry frowned. "Then who is the guardian angel?" He couldn't think of a single person who could protect him. He had always been part of a one-man army.

Flamel's eyes darted around the room. "Well, our department has been working to decipher the prophecy bit by bit. As of now, we are a little unsure of its contents." His eyes landed on Isis but quickly switched to Harry. He let on a warm smile. "Anything else you would like to ask about?"

"Who's the uncelebrated hero?" Harry asked.

"We have yet to decipher the prochecy," Flamel replied.

_Bull crap! _Harry narrowed his eyes.

It was Isis who voiced the next question. "What about the lady who could read our magic?"

"Reading others' magic?" Flamel tensed. "There are only few witches who can still do that. May I inquire who this lady was?"

"The woman at the front desk in the ministry. Something Lancaster." Harry provided further details. He had a feeling Flamel and her were related.

Flamel relaxed. "Ah. Roxanne Lancaster?"

"Do you know her?" Harry inquired.

"Why, I am the one who placed her at the front desk in the first place. How odd of me to have forgotten. She works as a subsidiary Unspeakable- an undercover Unspeakable, if you want to call her that. She has the gift to recognize magical fingerprints, and works under the orders of Unspeakable like myself."

"She was giving us a hard time this morning." Harry clenched his teeth.

Flamel nodded. "I recall her reporting your arrival. She suspected your magic different from the one in your wand."

"Then why did she let us pass?" Harry asked. So that's what the _click_ had been- it was some sort of communication device. "Did you tell her to let us in?"

Flamel scratched his ruby red beard. "I am not quite sure. She said that she had recognized the child."

Harry frowned. Lies! They were spoon-feeding him lies after lies. "How is that possible? She doesn't even know Isis."

Flamel began to walk away from the two children. "I do not know her reasoning."

After years of being lied to by Dumbledore, Harry had learned to tell when someone was keeping vital information from him. "Why are you hiding something?"

Flamel turned his head just as he was about to turn the corner and gave Harry a pained look. "I hope you will utilize the prophecy to prepare for what awaits you."

Harry felt himself grow hot. He narrowed his eyes and began to chase after the old man. "Hey, come back!" Flamel quickened his pace and disappeared behind the tall shelves. Harry ran after him. When he turned to the next aisle, he was disappointed to find that Flamel had disappeared. Harry looked around and searched the nearby aisles. Flamel was nowhere to be found. Harry slowed to a stop and sagged his shoulders.

Isis tugged on Harry's sleeve. "Harry, can we leave?"

"Why not someone else?" Harry sighed. "Why does it always have to be me?"

Isis didn't say anything. "Are you alright?"

Harry slid down against the end of the aisle and grabbed curls of hair in his fists. His head drooped. "Stupid, stupid prophecy. Stupid, stupid Voldemort. Go bother someone else, will you?"

Isis knelt beside him. "Are you okay Harry?"

Harry lifted his head and looked at Isis with a half-smile. "What's up pumpkin?"

Isis frowned. "First tell me. Are you okay?"

Harry's smile cracked. "Don't worry about me."

Isis deepened her frown. "I don't like it when you're sad."

Harry smiled fondly. "But that's who I am. You can't really change fate, can you?" Harry got up and helped Isis up. Harry rested his head against the wall. He closed his eyes. "Where did you want to go to next, pumpkin?"

Isis looked at Harry's worry-etched face. "Maybe you should get ready for the prophecy thing."

Harry kept his eyes still closed. "Isis, don't worry about the darn prophecy. Now, which type of restaurants do you like best? And if you want some deluxe ice cream treats, you need to promise to brush your teeth every night from now on. And if you don't like ice cream, there's always chocolate and-" At this point, Harry was rambling aimlessly. A tear slipped from under his eyelid.

Isis watched the tear slide down Harry's face. She slowly clasped Harry's right hand in both of hers. "Harry, you should get ready. I don't want to see you get hurt." She guided Harry's hand in wiping away the tear. "Please don't cry, Daddy."

Harry opened his eyes and looked down at Isis. She had a sincere look of worry. He looked down at the floor. "You think I should prepare for the worst?" He began to unconsciously twiddle his fingers.

"Yep," Isis nodded firmly. "That way, you'll be ready and not get hurt. Then, when you kick the bad guy's bum, we'll live happily ever after."

Harry let out a pleased chuckle. He sniffed away forthcoming tears. "Come here, you little pumpkin." Harry lifted Isis into the air and spun her around in a circle with a teary smile.

"Put me down!" Isis giggled. Her curly blonde hair distorted Harry's view of the dark room. Not that there was much to see in the room really.

The two of them spun around in the room for a few seconds. But to Harry, it seemed like hours. Hours of freedom. Seconds of reality.

Harry eventually felt light-headed and put Isis down. The two of them laughed as they swirled around in place from dizziness. All Harry could think at the moment was Isis. She looked so jubilant, so jocund. He wanted her to stay that way. He enjoyed seeing others happy. And if he wanted the girl to have a bright future of her own, he would have to eliminate all sources of sorrow. He didn't want any misfortunes to happen like they had in his universe. He would start by eliminating Voldemort.

The two stopped spinning around aimlessly and settled down next to each other on the floor. Harry looked at Isis. "You're right." Harry brought his hand out to pat Isis's head, but she ducked her head just in time. "I should get ready."

Isis clapped her hands together. "Then we can have a happy ending! There'll be lots of chocolate and toys and candy and fun and . . . chocolate! Right?"

Harry smiled. "And more fun, right?"

"Yep!" Isis responded proudly. "And you will be a hero!"

Harry helped Isis up and started walking towards the elevator they'd entered through. "A hero." Harry murmured. A faithful and forgotten hero.

"So where are we going?" Isis asked, looking up at him.

"Diagon Alley." Harry said, collecting his fallen conscious from the floor.

"To do what?" She pestered him, poking his side.

"We're going there to buy Animagus potion. Then, I'll send it to Sirius and Peter."

"Who is Sirius and Peter?" Isis asked.

"Well they're my friends from school and . . ."

"What's animagus?"

"Well if you let me finish answering my. . . "

"What's Diagon Alley?"

OoOoO

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the mall?" Lily's mom asked once again.

"I've already said no. I don't really feel like going today." That was a lie – a big one. Actually, Lily really wanted to go shopping, but her curiosity wasn't letting her leave the house. It was too good an opportunity to miss.

Lily's mom eyed her carefully. "Are you sure, honey? I don't want to hear you complaining in the morning."

"I'm fine with not going."

"Do you need anything?"

"Well, I haven't decided on anything yet."

"Maybe you should come with us. You might find something you like."

"Mum, I just don't want to go tonight. Maybe next time." Definitely next time.

"All right then." The mid-aged woman buckled up in the passenger seat inside of the car.

Lily's father turned his head and looked at Lily. "Stay safe, Lily. I promise to buy you some of those special chocolates on the way back."

Lily smiled cheerfully. "Thanks dad."

Her dad started the car and drove out of the garage Lily waved to her mother, who was eying her from the rear mirror. The gray car soon drove out of sight.

At once, Lily closed the garage door, locked the house door, and stormed up to her room. Her heart began to beat rapidly as she reached for the green book buried under her bed. She opened it without any thought and flipped to the eighth entry.

_Dear Diarie,_

_My name is James. I em for ears old. My mum says I shud rite in here. Are you my frend? Then I can tell you big sekrets. Mum and dad fite alot. I wish they wudnt. I am sad wen they fite. Do you tink they will stop?_

_Your frend,_

_Jams_

_P.s. Mum told me to syen my name like Jams becus she tought it was funny._

Lily smiled. He seemed like a typical child, cute and innocent. She flipped through a couple of pages. Many of the entries that followed were similar.

_Dear Diary,_

_Today, we went to someones party. I met Lucus Malfoi. He looked funny-looking. I met Frank too. He was there with . . . _

Lily muffled a giggle. Had Malfoy been just as childish as James before Hogwarts? She flipped another set of pages.

_Dear Diary,_

_Dad boat me a flieng broomstik! Its soo fun! Bye!_

_Oops! Forgot to syen my name._

_Your frend,_

_JaMs_

Lily rolled her eyes. She guessed James was starting to develop a personality for himself now. Lily skipped a thick stack of pages, wanting to know more about James's Hogwarts life. His childhood was fairly predictable. After all, she wanted to know if James's behavior in school was an act or not. She stopped to read a fairly neat but short entry. It was dated 9-12-1971. Perfect.

_Dear Diary,_

_Sirius told me her name is Lily Evans. Bloody beautiful, I tell you. Prettiest red hair in the entire world! It's just amazing. She took my heart away today. Never felt giddier. You think she'll notice me in classes. She's also in Gryffindor. Well, that's a good thing. I'd hate to have to chase after a beautiful girl sorted into Slytherin._

Lily eyes bulged. James was actually complimenting her? He wasn't trying to play games with her?

_I don't know how to approach her. Should I act cocky? Sirius says the girls like those kind of blokes. Well, I ought to sign off now. Don't want any of my friends knowing about you. Not that I don't like you or anything. It'd just be a bit embarrassing. No offense at all. Well, catch you later._

_Yours truly, mate!_

_Jams forever_

_P.S. Sirius and I agreed to act as stuck-up as possible. I already got this girl falling all over me. I think it'll work on her too!_

"Idiot!" Lily hissed. She wanted to go back in time and knock some sense into those two. Honestly, why did James always listen to Sirius's idiotic ideas? Lily skipped multiple pages and finally stopped. She looked at the blank page on the adjacent side of the entry. Apparently, this was the last entry in the diary.

_Dear Diary,_

_I wrote a poem for Lily. Wanna hear it? Well, too bad! I threw it out. Sirius says that it was too feminine. I was just trying to act romantic. Well, I tried to express my gentle love for her. But Sirius says I should rather play a song on the ukelele. He says it's much more romantic. I guess I'll just have to listen to what he says. After all, he's boned more witches than I could ever imagine. Not that I respect that. I would rather just stick to one girl for my entire life. Well, you already know that, don't you? _

"No, I didn't." Lily whispered to herself. She felt a rising urge to slap herself for having rejected James so many times. He'd been sincere in expressing his love for her the entire time. Lily shook her head in disbelief. Why had Sirius been such an imbecile? If it hadn't been for Sirius, they would have been together by now. Lily blushed at the thought. Well, there might have been a chance of that happening.

_Well, time to ask Lily out for the final time. Hopefully, she'll give me a chance. I really do like her. I'd give up my own life for her._

_Your heartbroken mate,_

_Jams forever._

_P.S. She rejected me again. Well, I'm not giving up anytime soon. . . . What's that you say? I just contradicted myself? Well, go jump in a ditch arsehole!_

_P.P.S. I'm just pulling your tail feathers! (If you had any.)_

_P.P.P.S. I love you, diary wiry!_

Lily felt her heart clench. Why did he stop writing? After recovering, he should have continued writing. Shouldn't he have? He lost his diary on the last day of school, after all. So, he should have kept writing. Unless, someone found his diary before her! Lily shook her head. It didn't matter now. Lily flipped backwards, landing on a fairly short diary entry. It was dated 10-31-1972.

_Dear Diary,_

_The school still thinks I sneaked out in the middle of he night to perform Quidditch tricks from the Astronomy tower._

Lily stopped reading. She remembered that from her second year. It had been quite a stupid move on James's part. She looked back at the page.

_Only Dumbledore knows that I had no intentions of surviving._

Lily gasped and covered her mouth with her right hand to muffle a forthcoming shriek. Her eyes dared to roll out. The diary in her left hand began tremble uncontrollably. Lily closed her eyes and digested the information she'd just obtained.

Through deductive reasoning, Lily concluded that James Potter was definitely not the person she had imagined. Right then, she decided that she would not lay another finger on the diary. She would return it to him, apologize for having taken it, and apologize for having misjudged him.

But luck just did not seem to be on her side today. Unfortunately for her, Lily had left the window open. The wind blew just then and flipped the pages backwards. Her eyes landed on the newly flipped-to page.

The page looked in very bad condition, much worse that the other ones like itself. There were ink stains and random blots scattered across the page. It seemed as if the entry had been written under the pouring rain. The handwriting wasn't very legible either. It was dated 10-31-1968. Before she could stop herself, she began to slowly decipher the scribbling. She soon wished she hadn't.

_Dear Diary,_

_Mum went to heaven today._

* * *

FuQs (Frequently Unasked Questions)

1) Why did you give up on the storyyyy ? ! - I did not. Please learn proper spelling and punctuation.

2) When will you update? - Soon. Well, a bit later than soon.

3) Why is Harry such a wimp? -Do you mean to ask why he has such conflicting and unusual emotions? Well, he's a confused fellow with a complicated history and personality

4) Is this AU? - No, it is the inverse of canon.

5) When will you update? - Please refer to FuQ # 2.

* * *

Thanks to all who added story to favorites, reviewed it, or put it on story alert.

Keep in mind that this universe (the one Harry entered) is not canon. Nor was Harry's original universe.

Chapters 1 and 2 will be updated as of 10-29-11. Major edits will take place with each successive week to tweak flaws in plot, characterization, etc. For now, simply enjoy the dialogue and plot and ignore minor holes in plot. But be sure to point them out if you see them!


	10. Snap Back to Reality

Snap Back to Reality

_March 15, 1961_

_Dear Diary,_

_It's official. Lily Evans is the girl of my dreams. I mean it in a very literal manner this time. I don't wish to elaborate and will save you the rich details from the dream. But you can put two and three together, right? Well, in that case, I'll leave you hanging with these four words: redhead, girl, kiss, wet sheets._

_Damn, that's five words, isn't it? Ah, what the hell. I'll add a bit more: Lily, me, make-out, passionate, bloody beautiful, morning wood. Better? Well, I warned you about my dreams before, didn't I? This has got to be one of my top ten dreams of all time, even better than the dream in which I defeated an evil Dark Lord and was praised as a hero and sex god. Yes, it was _that _good. Well, later mater. Gotta go._

_Your only friend,_

_Jams forever, The Heartbroken One._

_P.S. Detention for three weeks! S_omeone_ reported us to Filch, who in turn reported the incident to McGonagall. Guess who it was? Yep, it was Snape! Snape caught us while we were charming one of the doors at night. That greasy kid needs to be taught a lesson. I, James Hooligan Swagger Potter, declare war on Severus Snapellus . . ._

Lily frowned and closed the diary without bothering to finish reading it. Was that was how their real rivalry had started? Had it really been Severus who initiated the rivalry, then? Or had this event simply exasperated the rivalry that had started on the Hogwarts Express? By reporting their pranks, Snape made himself a prime suspect of the pranksters' daily dose of humiliation. But bullying Severus was still very wrong!

Lily felt anger build inside of her. One of the main reasons she disliked Potter and his friends was because of their constant acts of scorn directed towards Severus. Why were they so stubborn? Yes, Severus had reported them this once, but couldn't they just get over it and move on rather than holding childhood grudges that were bound to yield no good? And they had humiliated Severus long before this incident, beginning with the first year train ride. What was the reason back then?

Sev had been her friend since childhood. Severus didn't deserve their hate. He didn't deserve anything bad in his life. He had suffered much at a young age and didn't need any more suffering. She remembered how eager Severus used to be when he discussed Hogwarts with her before actually going there. School was supposed to have been a haven for the poor boy. She hadn't seen Severus happy inside school. He rarely smiled, if ever, nowadays.

Lily felt a tight clench in her chest as she remembered something. She murmured something incomprehensible and mentally berated herself. She hadn't contacted Severus all summer. She forgot about him. There wasn't one summer vacation that she hadn't contacted him. She hoped he was alright. Well, he hadn't contacted her either. He always called her during summer vacation or came by to pay her a visit. So why hadn't he come? Lily hoped he was alright. Lily looked down at the diary and chewed on her lip, and frowned. She had been too preoccupied with other things—things like homework and James's diary. She had been so preoccupied, in fact, that she had actually forgotten other important matters.

Lily didn't even know why she was still reading James's diary. She had promised to never take another peek at it. She had promised to return it to him the second she boarded the Hogwarts Express. Yet, there was something that had compelled her to continue reading. And that something had been the urge to learn more about James Potter.

"Lily?" Her mother called from downstairs. "Are you ready yet?"

Lily looked up from the page and closed the diary. She stood up, diary in right hand, and walked to the edge of the staircase leading to the living room.

Unfortunately for Lily, by not reading the end of the diary entry, she had misinterpreted James's full intentions and had been unable to recognize his complex personality. Had she read the rest of the entry, she might have realized that James Potter was really a different person.

_I, James Hooligan Swagger Potter, declare war on Severus Snapellus once more! Our old rivalry continues. I was actually thinking about leaving our grudges behind, but not after this incident! Or maybe I should. I don't know. I'll consult Sirius._

_P.P.S. Sirius says we should call him _Snivellus_. I personally think that we shouldn't continue our grudges. We should simply ignore Snape for the time being. Honestly, I don't GAF about Snape. I just want to get on Lily's good side. She's Snape's friend. So, maybe I should try to act somewhat neutral towards Snape. Besides, revenge is best served right out of the freezer, so it stings. If we _do _try to get back at him, we should get revenge next year, when Snape is off guard, when he's not expecting us to do anything about it, when he'll be thunderstruck. However, Sirius thinks otherwise. _

_Thus, we shall continue to make Snape's school year miserable. Even though I don't quite agree with the means, I'm willing to employ them. And if I start making friends with Slytherins, my reputation as a heroic Gryffindor would crumble. I have a reputation to keep up. Don't want others to start thinking of me as a wimp. But if I did try to get on speaking terms with Snape, I don't think it would work out. I get a creepy feeling whenever I'm around Snape. I always get the feeling that he's evil, always up to something. I'm being completely frank here. Believe me when I say that Snape is a true Slytherin to heart. Lily doesn't deserve Snape. I'm not saying she deserves me either, but hey, I'm willing to sacrifice myself for her. I doubt Snape would to that. Would he?_

OoOoO

"Lily?" Her mother called from downstairs. "Are you ready yet?"

"Yes, mother, I'm almost ready." Lily reached the top of the stairs and looked down.

"Well, hurry up honey. We don't want to be any later than nine. Remember the traffic last time?" Lily's mother was holding something in hand that resembled an important document of sort. "I also wanted to talk to you about a letter we got just this morning."

This sparked Lily's interest. "Letter?" Lily made out the white envelope embroidered in red in her mother's hand. "Who is it from?" Her first thought was that it was from Severus. Maybe he'd finally written to her. Her second thought was that it was from James. Maybe it was James, asking for his diary back. Her eyes widened at the latter thought. What if James was angry with her?

Lily's mother saw the fear lurking in the girl's eyes. She smiled. "Don't worry Lily. You're not in any trouble." Lily's eyes settled to normality. The girl descended the staircase, diary safely in grasp.

"What's the letter about?"

"It's from the headmaster." Her mother replied. She handed Lily the letter to read for herself. "He just wanted to ask if you'd like to become a prefect for the school year."

"Prefect?" Lily asked. "I can't be a prefect yet. I'm only a fourth year."

"The headmaster said something about implementing a new system of pre-prefects." Lily's mother explained.

"What exactly is the purpose of doing that?" Lily asked.

"You can read the letter for more information." Her mother gestured towards the letter that now rested in Lily's left hand. "But you can read it later on the train. Right now, get ready. Your father's almost ready. He'll probably start complaining about you being late again."

Lily nodded. She folded the letter and put in her back pocket. "Okay, mum."

After an hour of preparation, Lily Evans was back downstairs. She had two duffel bags, one full of textbooks and the other full of clothes. She also had a small backpack that contained important things like homework parchments, hygiene essentials, and her wand kit. She headed into the kitchen and hugged her mother before stashing three large packs of chocolate sweets into her backpack. Lily's mother looked at her with a stern look, but Lily simply grinned back.

"I don't want you to become too much of a sweetheart, Lily sweetie." Lily's mother smiled and hugged her daughter.

Lily rolled her eyes slightly. "I'll try not to finish all the sweets on the way to school."

Lily's mother chuckled. "Write soon, honey. Tell me about anything interesting that happens."

Lily nodded. "I'll write as soon as I get to my dorms."

"Lily!" Lily's father shouted from outside. A car horn honked loudly. "Are you ready yet?"

"Honestly, dad, I'm coming!" Lily shouted back in reply. She lugged behind her luggage out the door and into the garage. She opened the back trunk of the car and forced the large bags into the back trunk. Her mother came outside and helped Lily set down the luggage. After she was done, Lily got into the front passenger seat and buckled up.

"Have a safe trip, you two." Lily's mother said as she backed away from the car. Lily's dad reversed the car and drove the car away from the double-story house. Lily's mother watched until the car was but a dot in the distance, after which she retired into the living room.

In the car, Lily watched the houses whiz by and thought of the train ride that lay ahead. How would she confront James? How would he react after realizing that Lily had taken his diary? And what would Snape say?

"Say, Lily hon?" Lily's father interrupted Lily's steaming train of thought. "You never really talk about your social life with us."

"My social life?" Lily looked at her father with an odd look. That was private, wasn't it?

"Yes. We barely know of whom you befriend, whom you date, whom you crush on."

Lily turned as scarlet as the color of her hair. "Dad!"

Her father, though he chuckled, pressed her for details. "I know that you have two friends—"

Lily gaped. "I have more than two friends!"

"—whose names, I believe, are Severus Snape and . . . well, I forget the other one. And you seem to have a secret admirer, who revealed himself as being one James Potter last Christmas."

Lily colored, either from embarrassment or anger. "I have a multitude of friends, dad. But my romantic life is none of your business."

Lily's father smiled. "Do you like Severus Snape? Better yet, answer this question: do you wish to date him?"

Lily gave her dad a horrified look. "He's been my best friend since I was seven. I don't feel that way towards him."

"Well, it's sometimes the best of friends that end up dating."

"I don't feel that way towards him." Lily pressed, making sure to stress the end of the sentence. "I don't find him . . . that attractive." She considered Severus to have a likeable personality, but she did not feel any romantic connection between them two. Sure, he was a true friend, but nothing more.

"I see." Lily's father nodded. "What about this James Potter boy. Is he delectable?" By the end of the sentence, Lily had completely buried her head in her hands. Lily's father took a moment of concentration from driving and took a glance at poor Lily. His eyes directed back to the road. "Are you alright Lily?"

"Dad, my love life is private."

"So you do have feelings for the Potter boy, eh?"

"Dad!" Lily hissed. "It's private!"

"Private?" Lily's father raised his eyebrows amusedly. "You're telling me that you're in a private relationship with James Potter, and you didn't tell me about it?"

"Dad!"

OoOoO

_Harry's POV_

Charles left for work in the morning very early today. One would think that he didn't care about our safe arrival to King's Cross. Well, it's quite the contrary. Last night, he spent a good three hours or so making sure I had everything I needed for Hogwarts prepared in _five_ large bags. Really? I don't think I need five duffel bags! That's why they have Hogsmeade.

Anyway, he then sat me down in the living room and lectured me about responsibility. He said that he trusted that I could get to King's Cross station on my own and did not require any baby-sitting. Well, it's about time someone in my life trusted me with my own life! This Charles Potter is a great man, I tell you! I'd vote him as minister, if he ever decides to run. But that's beside the real point.

This man is giving me freedom of decision and control over my own life. No manipulations. None at all. He's the best paternal figure I could have ever hoped for. He trusts me. I trust him. Now only if I could convince other individuals to invest some faith in me as well. Cough, Dumbledore, Flamel, and Cough.

Well, the trip to King's Cross was very interesting. Actually, it was very interesting. Isis had two duffel bags of her own and was going to be staying with me at Hogwarts. I don't know which of these two facts is more shocking that the other. Did she honestly need two large bags? I only needed five, and I had three bags full of textbooks. She didn't have textbooks because she's not an official student at Hogwarts. I'm getting way off topic as of the moment. Focus Harry!

So . . . what happened next? Ah, yes. We reached King's Cross station via the metro. The experience was quite an eye-opener for the both of us. The metro wasn't as modern as it had been in the 90s, but was pretty advanced for the times. It would make one wonder how such construction was possible without aid of magicians. I was impressed by the way Muggles were handling their side of things—their society seems to have always been orderly, unlike ours. As for Isis, she was astonished. Having never left the proximity of her old home, I would assume that any place would amaze her. I can't wait to show her Hogwarts. She'll turn the Room of Requirement into her own playroom. Should I show her the Room of Requirement? I guess I'll think about it. Oh, and while waiting for the train, we met some folks.

OoOoO

Harry Potter and Isis Potter waited on the platform for the next train to arrive. Harry had charmed their luggage to weigh significantly less. He had also shrunk the luggage to miniature size and had pocketed everything except the guitar on his back. He was holding Isis's hand, who was twirling elegantly on her tiptoes like a ballerina in the spotlight. Harry was dressed in Muggle attire: green dress shirt and navy blue dress pant. He was wearing special white dress shoes—they had the Potter emblem engraved upon the sides. Isis was dressed in rainbow again.

An elder couple walking by looked at Isis and smiled. The woman looked at Harry, examined his facial features, and frowned.

"Is this your sister, young man?" She asked whilst looking around for an adult figure. Unable to find any, she looked at Harry expectantly. "You shouldn't be here without adult supervision."

"She's under my guardianship." Harry replied with undeniable certainty.

"Aren't you a bit young?" She queried, wrinkling her nose.

Harry involuntarily clenched Isis's hand as he thought of a clever reply. The older man must have seen this, for he put a hand on his spouse's shoulder and let on a small reassuring smile.

"Forgive my wife, mister . . .?"

"Potter, sir," Harry replied calmly. He stared into the man's eyes and noted a distinct characteristic that reminded him of someone he once knew.

"Mr. Potter, please forgive my wife. She gets a bit overprotective of young children. She also has this firm belief that the younger generation is unable to properly care of their offspring."

Harry licked his lips. "She's not my daughter by blood, but by soul."

"I had already guessed that." The man chuckled. "I see you have taken a great responsibility in adopting another child. It shows that you are very mature, Mr. Potter." The man frowned. "Perhaps a tad bit too mature."

"That is very true," The woman added.

Isis, sensing some sort of arising conflict, stepped in between Harry and the couple. "Harry is the best dad in the whole entire world."

The couple looked at Isis fondly.

"You both are very lucky to have each other." The man said.

"Thank you, sir." Harry said. Just then, the train arrived and slowed to a stop. "That's our train. It's been a pleasure meeting you, sir."

"Pleasure meeting you, Mr. Potter. But please," The old man smiled, "if we meet again, call me Mr. Granger."

Harry's eyes widened. Granger? He quickly turned away, dragging Isis behind, and boarded the train, making sure not to make eye contact with the elderly couple.

The old man frowned. He looked to his wife and then back at the young Potter. "Why do I get the feeling that the boy somehow knew us?"

"The Grangers are well-known dentists in the area." The old woman said. "Perhaps the poor bloke just remembered a painful experience from the dentistry."

"A . . . _painful_ experience." Mr. Granger repeated.

OoOoO

_Harry's POV_

I hadn't expected to meet up with the Granger family in the metro. I mean, it wasn't on my schedule or anything. I didn't even know I was talking to sir senior Granger until he told me his name was Granger. I guess his cinnamon brown eyes should have given me a forewarning—they were oh so familiar—but I didn't heed to it in time. You may wonder: why did I need a warning in the first place? You don't normally need warnings before acquainting yourself with another human being, no matter the age. But you have to understand that I'm not quite normal. I face emotional spasms every now and then. Name me one person you know who does that.

Exactly. I'm not normal.

You see, the mention of the name Granger brings back less-than-pleasant memories from the past. From what I remember, the relation between Hermione Granger and I wasn't as secure as it used to be when we were just kids. But the last time I say her, she wasn't just a kid anymore. She was much more than that, I can assure you.

I met mister senior Granger, Hermione's grandfather, at the station. He seemed pleasant to talk to, very generous and erudite. But then again, looks are deceiving—always. I would have _never_ guessed that the brunette with bushy hair I met early on the Hogwarts Express and befriended not soon later would actually have the courage to side against me and . . . ugh! She was the only one I ever trusted. You don't understand what it felt like to see your most loyal friend just switch over to the other side. She didn't turn evil or join Voldemort or anything. She just stopped supporting my ways and then compared me to . . . how dare that woman! You know what, just never mind. That was then. I understand her perspective. I respect it. After all, she _was_ sorted into Gryffindor for a reason. But I totally disagree with her. Honestly, I've been talking to myself for the last ten sentences or so.

Once again, it's that time of the year! Time to wash away the past and surf to the future! Oh goody! Anyway, back to the interesting stuff.

Isis claimed the train ride to be very fun. She was wandering about on the moving train, and I had to hold her hand so she wouldn't trip and fall. When the train emerged from underground, Isis rushed to a vacant seat near the window and glued her nose against the glass pane. For the remainder of the ride, she continually switched seats, from one side of the train to the other, to get the best view of the outside world. I simply watched with amusement. Had I also been a child at one point in my lifetime?

The train arrived at King's Cross station at approximately ten o'clock. We had plenty of time to board the Hogwarts Express. I had to practically drag Isis out of the train—the doors almost closed on us—and she reluctantly agreed to leave the station only after I promised her that the Hogwarts train would be a much more memorable experience. When she still gave me a contemplative look, I promised to talk about all the fun times I had at Hogwarts. At that, she held up her pinky and looked at me expectantly. I frowned before realizing that she wanted me to make a pinky promise. Talk about stubborn.

When we arrived at Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, Isis was walking on tiptoes, giddy from excitement. I had discussed all the thrill and adventure that lay dormant inside of the gargantuan castle of wonder. She said she wanted to fly on broomsticks and learn about magical creatures. If I were to sort her, I'd say that she would fit in quite nicely into Ravenclaw. Unfortunately, she's not an official student of Hogwarts yet and won't be sorted until she's eleven years of age.

While Isis and I were prepping to go through the wall to enter the platform, I noticed two children arguing. The boy and girl were waving their tickets in the air, panicking for sure. The ticket, I recognized it from a distance, was for the Hogwarts Express. The two children evidently did not know how to get across the wall. I smiled and told Isis to hold on a minute. I went over to the Muggle-born children— that's what I assumed them to be—and gave them reassuring looks.

"Do you two need help?" I asked politely. Of course, they started shouting out questions in disarray. "Hold on, now. One at a time."

The small boy walked up to me and showed me his ticket. "Do you know how to get to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters?"

"I sure do," I answered. The two children looked up at me with hopeful looks. "You're going to Hogwarts as first years, right?"

"Yes, sir." The little girl with long brown hair replied for the both of them. "Nobody told us how to get to the train. Are we too late?" Her features began to diminish as she began to hyperventilate. "The man at the station that we asked for help for said that this was a joke and that there was no such thing as a platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters and that . . ." She trailed off and looked up at me. "Is it all a joke?"

"Forget about the man," I said. "He's not a wizard like you and me."

"How do we get there?" The small boy asked impatiently.

"What you do is you walk straight towards the wall there." I said, pointing to the general area where Isis was standing. "Walk right through it, actually. That's not really a solid wall. It's an illusory boundary that keeps regular Muggles from knowing about the Hogwarts Express."

The girl looked at me with worried eyes. "Can you help us get there? Guide us?"

I smiled. "Sure. I'm helping Isis get there too." I pointed to the young pumpkin in rainbow. "You can follow us."

"Are you a Hogwarts student too?" The boy asked as he began to organize the luggage into a large cart.

"That I am," I said. "Say, where are your parents?"

The girl nibbled on her bottom lip. "We're orphans, sir. The orphanage person just left us here."

I frowned. "And he didn't help you any further?"

The boy snorted. "Like he would ever help us other than give us a glass of water."

I sighed. More children that needed caring for. "Let's get you aboard the train. It'll be leaving soon." The boy and girl followed me as I walked back to the entrance to the platform.

"Hurry up, Harry. We're going to be late!" Isis said. She looked at the boy and girl. "Who are they?"

"They're friends." I said. "Okay folks. We're going to go in two at a time." I pointed at the boy and girl. "You two hold hands, close your eyes, and run right into the wall."

The boy raised his eyebrow. "You sure we won't crash?"

I smiled. "I'm double negative."

Only the boy got the joke. If you consider it a joke at all.

OoOoO

Lily Evans boarded the Hogwarts Express with a worried expression this year. She had many matters to attend to. First, she had to return James's diary. And apologize profusely for having taken it in the first place. Then, she had to go to Snape. And apologize profusely for not having contacted him. Last, she had to go meet up with Catherine and the other girls. Lily blinked as she remembered something else. She also had to finish reading that letter that Dumbledore had sent her. She had only read half of it on the way to the station.

Lily sighed as she began to search the compartments for James Potter. She would prefer it if he were alone. She went to the very back of the train and looked inside the usual compartment. She was surprised to find it occupied by a bunch of Slytherins. Her eyes fixated on a boy with long, greasy hair. Severus Snape looked back at Lily and acknowledged her presence, unlike the other Slytherins.

"Hello, Sev," Lily mumbled, feeling a bit intimidated by the rest of Snape's entourage. She did not understand Snape's choice of friends, but she lived with it. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Snape nodded and exited the compartment. "I haven't heard from you all summer."

"I was a bit preoccupied." Lily replied. "Why didn't you call me? Or come to my house?"

Snape looked down at his feet. "I was a bit preoccupied myself." Lily assumed that Snape was embarrassed. Her assumptions were quite invalid.

Lily smiled. "Let's catch up on things later this weekend. Meet me at the usual spot?"

Snape looked up. "Not this weekend, Lily. I'm a bit busy with—"

Lily frowned. "With your _friends_ again, Sev?"

Snape sighed. "Lily, you have to understand that being a Slytherin is quite challenging. The house ties make it difficult for us to meet and—"

"I know," Lily interrupted. "It's just that I miss the old Severus." She looked at her best friend. "I miss the old _you_."

The two friends looked at one another for quite a while. Lily looked into Severus's eyes and saw a glint of something she did not quite recognize. A voice interrupted the tense moment.

"Ex-squeeze us, fellow Hogwarts students." Lily and Snape turned to find Potter horded by three ecstatic young children. "Pardon us. We're just trying to get through."

"James," Lily gasped. Snape raised his eyebrow at the casual interaction between Lily and Potter.

Harry looked up and smiled. "Hi Lily. I'm afraid we can't talk much." He gently pushed past Lily and Snape and opened the compartment across the hall. "I have a few students who have questions that need urgent answering." He led the three children, two girls and one boy, into the compartment.

Lily frowned. "Are you a pre-prefect too?"

"I don't know what you mean by that, I'm afraid." Harry said as he took out his wand and applied some sort of charms to the compartment. "But I can tell you that—"

"Hey, Harry," the boy peeked his head from inside the compartment, "can I join the Quidditch team?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Mark, you have to be a second-year to join. I just told you that."

"Bullocks." Mark feigned a scowl. "Well, can you teach me how to fly? You said you were good."

Harry grinned. "I'm not _that _good, but maybe." He looked back at Lily. "I'll catch you later, yeah?" With that, he entered the train compartment and closed the glass door behind him. The glass suddenly became opaque, probably as an effect of the charms applied to the compartment.

Lily stared at the spot where James Potter had been standing moments earlier. She shook herself out of a daze and looked back at Severus. "I'll see you later Severus. I'm going to go find Catherine." With that, the redhead girl turned around and left Snape out in the corridor.

Snape's predatory gaze lingered on Lily's back for longer than necessary. He looked at the compartment that Harry Potter was inside of and grumbled some nasty things about the boy. "I can never be the same Severus, Lily." A picture of James Potter's dead body popped into his mind. Snape smiled. "Never." Snape entered the Slytherin compartment again, apologizing for the Mudblood's interruption.

OoOoO

_Harry's POV_

The train ride turned out to be quite stellar. Phenomenal, as a matter of fact. Isis made two good friends today. The first year boy called himself Mark. He didn't tell me his last name, but I got the feeling that the two first years were related, probably brother and sister. The girl said her name was Alexandra Romanov, so the boy must be Mark Romanov. They both had very stark personalities.

When the train first started moving, Isis introduced herself to the two strangers in the room (well, at least to Isis, they were strangers). Isis said that she wasn't a real Hogwarts student, and that I had adopted her. The two first years didn't seem very astonished by my adopting her at a young age. I guess they had a lot of experience with adoptions in the orphanage. Alex—the first-year girl told us to call her that—did offer Isis a warm smile and said, "That was very nice of Harry." Then, Isis talked a bit about herself, a bit about her childhood. She didn't get very far—her voice began to tremble after reciting just one nightmarish childhood memory. Before I could comfort Isis, Alex immediately squeezed in between Isis and me, and pulled her sobbing form into a comforting hug. I noted Mark's features go dark for a moment before he too comforted the girl with brave words. I would have never expected first years to act so mature.

Well, things only got better after that. Mark introduced himself and talked about some of his hobbies. He also introduced his sister—I had been right in assuming that Alex was Mark's sister—and did the talking for her. Mark also tried to lighten the mood by embarrassing his sister—again, that's very mature for his age. He told us of the time Alex started crying after being told Mark had eaten all her Halloween candy. At this, Alex turned bright pink and countered the embarrassing memory with one of hers. She told us of the time when Mark wet his trousers after getting locked inside a closet while playing hide-and-seek. Mark scowled and threw back a sharp retort. And so, the two siblings continued to volley harmless memories back and forth. One moment, the two were glaring daggers at another, and the next, they were laughing about on the floor. Isis and I joined in on the laughter.

Before I knew it, the children were looking at me expectantly. Alexandra asked me about myself, about my past. I staggered for a moment and stared back at the children. What would I tell them? Would I tell them of my real past? Or would I tell them of the past of James Potter, the one that I was being told to imitate in this reality? I finally decided to be as truthful as possible while staying completely ambiguous. I said that my hobbies included playing Quidditch and playing the guitar. Alex and Isis perked up at the mention of the guitar; Mark, despite his mature self, exclaimed "Quidditch!"

You can imagine how it went from there. We talked, for hours obviously, until the conductor of the train announced that we would be arriving at Hogsmeade in approximately thirty minutes. Mark and I exited the compartment and changed into our uniforms while the girls changed in privacy. Mark looked at the enigma on my robe and starting asking me about the different houses. And so, I spent the rest of the train ride explaining the characteristics of all the houses, holding onto an unbiased point of view.

After arriving at Hogsmeade, I led the three youngsters out of the train and towards the boat area. Hagrid was there, yelling out the usual things to attract the first-years' attention. I told the Romanov siblings to use the boats to get to Hogwarts like the rest of the first-years and told them that I'd meet up with them later. When they asked why I wasn't going with them and questioned the safety of the boats, I decided to ride a boat to Hogwarts with them. I thought, _Why not?_ There was nothing wrong in riding the boat, and I didn't really care for dignity at the moment.

I occupied one of the larger boats and helped Isis and the siblings get in. Hagrid gave me a weird look but gave me a tepid smile nonetheless and asked me how my summer had been. Good ol' Hagrid! Never seems to mind anything. Well, anyway, I replied nicely and waved to him before pushing our boat into the water. The small trip across the lake was yet another adventure of the day. The whole day had been full of adventures. Bloody exciting day, it was, for me and for the rest of the Little gang.

During the boat ride, Isis and Alex started conversing about the beautiful night sky—or something along those lines—while Mark and I had a manly one-to-one talk about Quidditch and dueling. After a few minutes, we arrived at our destination. I won't go into much detail about how we arrived there exactly, as it was pretty dull and routinely. But after that, a lot of stuff happened. Let's skip to the good part.

So after I bid the Romanov siblings and Isis goodbye and left them with the other first years waiting to be sorted (Isis had decided to stay with her new friends for the feast), I entered the Great Hall. I guess I'm just too good at making dramatic entrances. As soon as I stepped in, all the students turned their undivided attention towards me and did the only thing that they're good at—they gawked. They must have been surprised that I arrived so late. Or maybe some of them had seen me with the firsties. I honestly don't know the reason for their awe. I mean, is my beautiful face really _that_ entrancing?

Well, something very awkward chanced as a cause of all the attention that I received. You see, all that gawking dazzled me; all the attention spoiled my brain into a state of irrational thought; all that shower of attention baffled my brain. The audience stared at me, I stared back. The audience gawked at me, I gawked back with an equal but opposite magnitude. Basically, I was as confused as the audience of the show. Okay . . . maybe I should stop trying to use figurative speech.

So basically, this is what happened:

Since I was under too much pressure—and also because I have a pleasant case of ADHD—I walked over to the Ravenclaw table and took a seat across a frowning Jessica Lancaster. The enigma of the golden lion embroidered on the front of my robes did not quite match the enigma of the black raven embroidered on the hem on the tablecloth in view. I looked back at Jessica Lancaster and studied her for a while before snapping back to reality. She gave me a calculating frown that sent my mind racing. Damn. Once again, just like last year, I was seated on the wrong table. After remembering that I was on the wrong table, I made up a poor excuse of wanting to spread house unity (just like I had the last time this happened) and relocated to another part of the Great Hall, thanking Jessica on the way out. I then serenely stalked over to the Gryffindor table and attempted to sit down. Key word: attempted.

Before I knew it, Sirius, Peter, and Remus had me pinned to the ground. Then, just like the last time, the four of us had public sexual intercourse. Sirius was on top, Remus was on bottom. Remus said he preferred being on bottom, not in control. Peter was actually the one that . . .

_Okay fine, I'm lying about that part._

But we did have an intimate bear hug, one that involved us being on the floor in very strange positions. Sadly, the hug did not last long, as McGonagall broke up the emotional occasion not soon after the initiation. Alas, we were forced to sit on the table like kempt gentlemen. Not soon after, I saw the first years filing into the Great Hall and getting ready for the Sorting. I saw Isis and the siblings talking with other students. I turned back to my age group and began to converse. For the time that we had while McGonagall set up the Sorting Hat, the pranksters and I caught up on stuff. We discussed our summers; I explained why I hadn't been on the train; Sirius mentioned his many summer girlfriends. You know, the usual. And just as I thought normality was beginning to settle into the hectic day, the sorting hat surprised us all. Well, it didn't surprise me: I'm special. Abnormally special, of course. But some other things _did_ surprise me.

OoOoO

McGonagall frowned as she scrutinized her eyes upon the scroll of paper in her hand. She was obviously obfuscated by something written on it. For what other reason would the old woman have stopped in the middle of the sorting process? The student body settled to a silence upon realizing that there was a disruption in the Sorting ceremony.

"Is something the matter, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked.

"No headmaster, not at all." Professor McGonagall replied briskly. She cleared her throat. "Romanov, Markus." A short and scrawny dark-haired boy with lurid grey eyes stepped forward and took the designated spot on the stool. McGonagall slowly lowered the Sorting Hat onto the young man's head.

At once, the Sorting Hat began its work. "Ah, a prodigy." The hat murmured out loud. Only the staff members heard its remark, causing a mixed reaction amongst them. The hat's top twitched slightly "O ho, is that so?" This time, the hat's voice echoed throughout the silent hall. "Do you think that is truly possible?" The student body of Hogwarts watched the first year with a fixed gaze. That boy was certainly different. "Hmm . . . I cannot say for certain." The sorting hat fell silent for a long while. After a good five minutes, it finally reached a decision: "Please bring forth the next person to sort."

"To which house does the boy belong?" McGonagall asked with a tight frown.

"Nobody really ever belongs to any house." The hat spoke aloud. "Now, I will only sort Mister Romanov after I have examined his sister."

McGonagall looked back at the roll of parchment containing the names of first-years being sorted. "Romanov, Alexandra, if you will please."

A girl with long brown hair and with eyes made of the purest sapphires stepped forward and took the place of her brother. The sorting hat got to work once more. The pointed hat tipped its top and mused out loud, "Wonderful. Another one." The Hogwarts students watched as the hat fell silent for a few minutes again. "Are you affirmative, little miss?" The hat asked out loud. This time, even the stern Transfiguration teacher gave the sorting procedure a peek. What did the two siblings posses that had the sorting hat in such wonder? Finally, the Sorting hat made its decision: "The two belong in . . . SLYTHERIN!"

At once, cheers erupted from the Slytherin table. The senior members of Slytherin smirked and walked over to greet the young prodigies. There was no doubt that they were powerful, especially not after the long sorting process. They were bound to bring Slytherin house to glory. Yet, the two siblings made no move to walk towards their designated house. Instead, they walked down the platform and took the hand of a young girl of age seven. From there, the three little children strode over to the Gryffindor table and took seats right next to Potter. The three started conversing with the Gryffindor, shocking everyone in the hall.

McGonagall proceeded to sort the remaining first-years, ignoring the commotion as if it were not there.

"Interesting," Dumbledore mumbled to himself. He recognized little Isis, but not the other two children. Charles had informed him of Isis's arrival to Hogwarts a few days before school had started. But the Romanov siblings were certainly a pleasant surprise. Why did the Romanov name sound eerily familiar?

Meanwhile, the Hogwarts students had a rather revealing interaction.

The Slytherins, despite their barely-controlled anger, took no actions as of the moment. First, there were too many witnesses; foul play was out of question. Second, the Slytherins knew that the two firsties would be getting a _nice_ talk later in the common room. Some of the older Ravenclaw students saw what went through the Slytherins' minds and passed on their observations to the Hufflepuff table. There, the older Hufflepuff students vowed to warn the Romanov siblings before leaving the hall, perhaps even pass on some tips for defense. Some of the older Gryffindor students overheard the rumors and promised to escort the siblings to the Slytherin common room and into their dorms. This chain of team effort astounded those faculty members that were able to apprehend it.

Finally, the last first-year was sorted into Hufflepuff. Dumbledore stood up and made a few announcements. "And before I allow you to devour the feast, I must announce a new policy. The staff and I have decided to introduce the new system of pre-prefects. Students that are not fifth year or higher can still apply to become a pre-prefect and earn some leadership skills. This year, there will be only eight pre-prefects. If the pre-prefect system works out this year, we will continue it into the next year."

"Who are the year's pre-prefects?" A student asked.

"Good question, Mr. Whitfield." Dumbledore said. "I cannot say, but they will be revealed in due time. However, for now, let us feast!" Dumbledore swished his hands and at once, savory food appeared on the rows of platter on the four long tables.

OoOoO

At the Gryffindor table, Sirius and Mark were having a staring contest of sorts. Harry watched with bored eyes. Alexandra and Isis were busy acquainting themselves with the older girls on the table.

"Honestly, folks, cut it out." Harry said.

"Who the hell are you?" Sirius asked for the third time in a row.

"I'm Mark," the boy replied. "You may call me Markus if it pleases you."

Remus snorted out pumpkin juice into his drinking goblet. "Pleases?" Remus grinned.

Sirius looked at Harry. "How do you know these little buggers anyway?"

Harry looked at Isis, then at Alexandra and Mark. "Well, I met them on the train. And Isis . . . is my ward."

At this, the three other boys blanched. "What?" They asked in unison.

"You adopted her?" Remus asked. "Are you off your rocker?"

"Who is she anyway? I mean, why adopt her?" Sirius asked. He looked at her from across the table. "Well, she does have a pretty face and—"

"Don't even bother finishing that sentence!" Harry hissed quietly.

"Hey, James, Easy there." Sirius chuckled as he raised his arms up. "I didn't mean it that way."

Harry sighed. "I'm just a bit overprotective of her."

"A bit?" Sirius asked with an exaggerated scowl. "You're really funny, Potter."

"Where will she be staying?" Remus asked with a hint of seriousness.

Almost as if on cue, Isis turned around. "Hey Harry," Isis said. "Where will I be staying?"

"You'll be with Madame Pompfrey." Harry replied gently, patting Isis's head.

"Okay." With that, Isis turned back and started talking with Alexandra.

Harry turned back to the conversation and met the perplexed looks of three Gryffindor boys. "What?"

"Why did she call you Harry?" Remus asked.

"Well," Harry said, "I've told them—that is to say, Alex, Isis, and Mark—to call me that. It's a new nickname."

Sirius and Remus paused and looked at one another before looking back at Harry, adding a moment of silence to the conversation.

"Hey . . . James." Remus said slowly. "New nickname. Adoption. Mind explaining what happened these past few weeks?" He paused. "Or should I start calling you Harry."

Harry smiled. "I promise to explain everything in the dorms. It's not safe here. Someone might eavesdrop or something."

"You're absolutely right," Sirius said, eying Mark strongly. "Especially when there are certain _Slytherin _blokes around."

"Sirius," Harry warned, "be nice."

Sirius pouted before agreeing upon staying within peaceful terms with Mark. No sooner had the two shaken hands did Dumbledore rise again and declare the feast to be over.

Mark waved goodbye to the Gryffindor pranksters and walked over to his sister. The two Romanov siblings then parted from the Gryffindor table and were greeted by older Hogwarts students who promised to aid their safe trip to the Slytherin common rooms. Madame Pompfrey came in soon enough and personally escorted away a whining Isis Potter to her private quarters; Isis was fussy because she had insisted upon exploring the castle ground at night, to which Pomfrey had said no. Harry, Sirius, Peter, and Remus eventually got up and made way to the exit along with the rest of the Gryffindor students. However, just as the students neared the exit, the sorting hat spoke up in a loud voice, startling everyone in the hall.

_They have arrived_

_Wanderer and Guardian._

_Magus of Time has_

_Lost his Angels._

* * *

Author's Note:

1. The end of this chapter falls of a bit. Will be edited.

2. Chapter 3, I just realized, is atrociously edited. Please ignore the gramatical mistakes and such. And also, Harry's characterization in chapter 3 is a bit off.

3. I promise not to introduce any more OCs. Don't quote me on that. But hey, this is an AU. Where's the fun with just canon characters?

4. Um . . . review please?

Deleted Scene (Can't fit this into the chapter, but I spent a good deal of time writing it):

"Were you serious about the house unity thing when you sat with the hot chick at the Ravenclaw table?" Sirius asked with wide eyes.

"The girl's name is _Jessica Lancaster_," Harry said, "and the second part doesn't matter really."

"But he's in Slytherin!" Sirius retorted, directing his attention back to Mark.

Harry sighed, his eyes still affixed on the teenage Sirius Black. "Sirius, please think logically for a moment."

Sirius gave Harry a horrified look. "And shed my Gryffindor insolence?"

Harry smiled. "Give him a chance, will you Sirius? You might find Mark to be quite different."

"I don't know, James mate." Sirius eyed Mark closely. "He looks suspicious to me. Seems pretty Slytherin to me. Just look at his robes! They're black and have a picture of a snake on the front."

Harry rolled his eyes. "He's obviously going to have Slytherin robes, you dimwit. He's in Slytherin house."

Sirius ignored Harry. "Besides, he didn't even offer me his hand in friendship."

"I wish to acquaint myself with you." Mark said almost immediately after, holding out his hand across the table. "Please _do _accept my hand in friendship."

Sirius kept eying the boy. "I've never really talked to Slytherin blokes before. I mean, Slytherin chicks have bloody nice curves, and I can manage hanging out with them. But the Slytherin blokes—"

"Do you like Quidditch?" Mark added innocently. At once, Sirius brightened up.

"Of course I do. I'm the best." Sirius boasted out loud. "How good are you at Quidditch? Ever played before?"

"Haven't gotten the chance to really." Mark answered. "I'm an orphan."

Sirius's demeanor staggered. "Oh." He looked away, and his cocky persona fell off at once. "Sorry about that, then." He looked back at the boy and held out his hand. "I didn't know you were . . . I thought your parents were . . . well, shit."

Mark smiled for the first time. "You don't have to apologize. The Sorting Hat warned us about the prejudices between the houses. It's quite understandable."

"You know," Sirius wrinkled his nose, "I'll agree to be your mate only if you stop talking like that."

"Affirmative." Mark smirked back.

"And you're only eleven?"


	11. Driving in Reverse

_Note_: This author's note is completely useless—do not read! Wow, you read it? What a muggle, you are.

* * *

Driving in Reverse

_Harry's POV_

Dumbledumb is really out of it. He must have stayed late up at night drinking cups of firewhiskey before making his wicked decision. Who in the right mind would make _me_ pre-prefect? Dumbles knows perfectly well that I am in no condition to carry out my pre-prefect duties. Well, actually, he might not know that, but isn't it quite obvious? I mean, I am a bit knowledgeable, but that's about it. (I'm also good at dueling, but that hardly qualifies me for the position.)

I'm serious. I don't have that many good traits. Why would I be a good role model for others? I can barely interact with others outside the elite group of individuals I select. I'm not normal. How many times do I have to exemplify that? Give the children a better example of a role model, will you Mister Dore?

In order to be pre-prefect, one must be smart (_Check_, I think.), one must be a bit gregarious (_Nope_.), one must have a controlled calmness in handling times of crisis (Are you _kidding_? I go berserk during times of catastrophe!), and one must have a good insight of his peers in order to handle them properly (_Definitely not_.).

First of all, I don't know ninety-five percent of the Hogwarts population. Well, at least not from this Hogwarts. This Hogwarts differs from the one that I know by a time interval of over twenty years. How can I possibly have a good insight of the students here? Besides, I've only been in the Hogwarts of this universe for a few months now, and I'm not the type of person who would willingly go up to people and strike up polite conversations to get to know them better. Believe it or not, I'm a bit conserved when it comes to strangers, and people in general scare me. (To tell you the truth, society scares me, but let's keep that a secret between you and I, yeah?) I know a lot of other prefects don't exactly qualify the criteria either, but that's different. They fit most of the criteria one way or another. The only problem they may have is in handling students. Most of the prefects are shy, but they have good insight of their peers. They have good decision-making skills. They understand their peers. I, on the other hand, am quite brash and reckless. Kick with the head, is my slogan. Action, accio, action, is my other one.

Of course, Dumbledore doesn't know that yet, and he will probably regret making me prefect after he realizes how much of a mess-up I am. I'm not much of a leader, not anymore I'm not. No kidding. I'm independent, is what I am. I don't care for others.

Wait, what did Harry say. Did he just say he doesn't care about people? Doesn't he have a saving people thing? What the heck is he going on about?

I'm not saying I love saving people. See, that's where the line blurs. I don't care about individuals when I see them upfront, but I care for humanity. I want humanity to live. I live for my society, no matter how fucked up it is. That's why I'm not a leader. Perplexing, isn't it? I'm a confused person, a rather complicated one. I don't even understand myself.

Sometimes, I want to give up my life for others and save humanity, but I also want to kill every one of them for making me want to do so. Other times, I want to give up my life for others and save humanity, and that's it, no threats attached. Weird, isn't it? How bipolar can I get? It's just that whenever I save people, they praise me. Now that's not too much a problem, and it wouldn't be one either, but the thing is that these same people turn against me so quickly. When I don't specifically save _them_ from trouble and help out someone on the other side of the country, they feel I'm just a jerk wanting attention because I didn't help them and helped someone else. They're all greedy bastards, the lot of them. One moment, Ms. Skeeter says, "Harry Potter is an attention seeking whore." Death eaters attack the Skeeter area and I save her from the attack, and what do you know: "Mr. Potter is the Savior of the Wizarding World." Duck society! (Kindly replace the "d" with an "f".)

Of course, that's probably why Dumbledore from the other universe didn't make _me _prefect in my fifth year and gave the position to Ron rather than to me. He saw me as more mentally unstable than Ron. That's pretty funny. Ron was quite erratic and mentally unstable himself. I mean, Ron was a loyal buddy and he had better communication skills that I did at times but he was incredibly dense. He was really clueless at times and. . . . Well, actually, he wasn't that loyal of a friend. No. Oh right. No, he wasn't. He wasn't . . . Ron was . . . well, he was . . . well not after how he . . . and then he and Ginny were . . . fucking Dean Thomas snogging her behind my back and Ron just—actually, never mind that stuff!

So, guess what. I mean, guess who. Guess who the other Gryffindor prefect is. I'll give you two tries. No, it's not Sirius. Nope, not Remus. Well, looks like you used up the two tries, so I'll tell you. It's Lily Bloody Evans. How convenient, eh _Dumbledore_? My getting parried up with a teenage Lily Evans is _obviously _a coincidence.

Dumbledore brought up the topic of pre-prefects again the morning after the Sorting Feast. After explaining the importance of good discipline and conduct, he introduced the pre-prefects, two from each house. The other seven pre-prefects didn't seem a bit startled when Dumbledore announced their names. But when he read out from the paper, "James Potter," my head simply crashed down against the bread on my plate, and I remained gaping for a very long time, either from dumbfounded shock or pure frustration. The people around me could tell that I was unaware of being chosen pre-prefect. And they were right to think so, because I really was unaware. After a while, I got up from the table and took a long walk to the bathroom to wash my hands and think things through. I finally decided to meet with Dumbledore and work things out. But he was unavailable at the moment—his office was empty. So I did what I do best: I bottled up my emotions for the time being and adapted with the changing circumstances in my life.

A few days passed by, and Lily and I had our first patrol. She heatedly asked me about why I had lied to her about not being a pre-prefect on the train. When I replied by saying I hadn't known, she turned away with an awkward stutter and apologized for her cheek. Then all of a sudden, she started apologizing about random things. She started apologizing for having misjudged me in the previous years of Hogwarts and started asking me if I was still having suicidal thoughts. Why would I have suicidal thoughts? I asked out loud. She shook her head and said it was nothing.

Then, she asked me if I would be mad if someone hypothetically took my personal belongings—hypothetically speaking, of course, she emphasized the end. I frowned and wondered what she could have taken of mine that I considered to be personal. Of course, I replied by telling her that I would be very mad with the person who took my things, but would let it go after a while. Poor Lily probably took something of mine without knowing it was really mine. Yet, rather than returning whatever she had taken, she chose not to do so; my response seemed to have scared her a lot. She fidgeted and kept apologizing, and we ended patrol in an awkward manner. I really had no idea what she was going on about—I honestly didn't—and I left patrol duty with a look of confusion. What could she have taken from me? Then, just a few days ago, Lily came up and asked me about setting up a patrol schedule. She looked almost nervous at first but eased up by the end.

So, Lily and I were standing outside the Great Hall right after breakfast on a Saturday morning. She tucked a few strands of her red hair behind her ears and started asking me questions: when would I be free, when could I not make it, which days were ideal for patrol, and others questions of the sort. I answered very politely—that's my style, as you should know. She seemed impressed, or shocked, by the way my lips parted. She fixed her eyes on my mouth rather than on my eyes. She was either impressed by my lips—which would be weird—or by what was coming out of them. The latter probably holds true.

Anyway, while we were talking, she kept sending me these weird signals. It was as if she thought I wasn't responsible or something. I reckon she expected me not to follow the rules, since James Potter and his entourage were known trouble-makers and accustomed to not follow them, and expected me to start complaining or something. But I didn't do that. I respected the rules only just enough to follow them, and I said that to her. Lily frowned at first. But eventually, she retracted those weird eyebrow furrows, after I added my insight on patrol scheduling. I talked about . . . well, I don't quite recall what I said. But whatever it was, it really caught her attention. Well, so much in fact, that she slightly gaped. She eventually closed her mouth eventually and said something along the lines of, "Wow, James, see you next Saturday." Or she might have said, "Wow, you can talk to me without mentioning the word date." Either way, I smiled back politely and watched her leave for her dorms.

And just when I thought things couldn't get weirder, I turned around and bumped into Jessica Lancaster.

She almost fell to the ground, but I caught her by the hand and helped her up. I looked her in the eyes and covertly leered at her body. Merlin, she was beautiful. I mean, I don't believe in love, but I have to admit that she looked like a sort of goddess. And now that I had a good look of her body, she really wasn't the supermodel status I had imagined when I first met her. Not perfect, but good enough for me, were I to ever have another girlfriend, which is unlikely after what happened the last time I tried that.

Anyway, we apologized at the same instant, stuttered almost simultaneously, and gave an awkward chuckle that lasted for almost the same interval of time. Weird, weirder, and even weirder. What was she doing here? I decided to re-evaluate Jessica Lancaster.

OoOoO

Jessica almost landed on the floor, but Potter extended his hand in time and caught her. Jessica took it gratefully and recovered from the fall. "Hi," she said. Although she let on a small smile, the rest of face remained quite stoic.

Harry Potter frowned but greeted her nonetheless, "Oh, hi there."

"I couldn't help but overhear your conversation," she said, her brown eyes resembling the stillness of a frozen lake, although a glimmer of warmth floated behind the icy coating.

"Is that so?" Harry asked, skeptic to her advance. "Don't you have something to do or were you . . . ?"

Jessica rolled her eyes. "Honestly Potter, I have better things to do than stalk you."

Harry frowned and chuckled to himself. "I wasn't implying anything, Miss Lancaster. I was just wondering why you're still here. Breakfast was over fifteen minutes ago."

"Well," she started to say something, but she stopped herself and put on a thoughtful expression. Harry scrutinized his gaze on her face and watched as she bit her lip nimbly and tapped her foot on the marble floor for a while. After realizing that she was being watched, Jessica said, "I was made pre-prefect, the Ravenclaw pre-prefect." Then, she started to think again, blocking out Harry's reply for the moment.

"That's nice," Harry said. He was a little unsure of Jessica's true intentions. Had she come to Harry just to inform him that she had been made pre-prefect? Harry actually had already known that she was a pre-prefect. The entire school knew that. Dumbledore had informed the student population of the eight pre-prefects. That was no secret.

Jessica's eyes looked quite far away. She didn't respond.

"Is that all?" Harry broke the prolonged silence. "My schedule is quite full and I have Hocr—I mean, I have to practice Quidditch and battle magic—I mean, Charms homework. Yeah, Charms, definitely, and . . . hey, are you listening Lancaster?" Harry waved his hand in front of Jessica's eyes.

Jessica snapped from her state of thought. "Oh, erm. It's just that . . . I was wondering . . . . "

"Very eloquently put, Miss Lancaster," Harry replied with a chuckle. "You come to ask me something, and then you doze off."

"Shut it, Potter," Jessica said, with a frown. Harry only seemed amused. "Look, I wanted to ask you about the prophecy."

Harry stopped smiling. "What?" His smile turned very upside down, and creases danced forth his forehead. "Where the hell did you find out . . . ?" Harry's face distorted. "How do you know—I'll give you five seconds before I rip your arm off and send you to Dumbledore's office."

"Calm down, Potter," Jessica said. She tried to place her hand on Harry's shoulder, but he took a step backward. Jessica frowned. "Look, I'm not working against you or anything. I don't even know what the prophecy says. My mum works as an Unspeakable. She mentioned something about a prophecy, a war, and a boy named Potter." She bore her eyes into Harry's. "Is that Potter boy you?"

"Maybe," Harry said through clenched teeth, his eyes fixated on Jessica's wand arm. Jessica, noting Harry's caution, withdrew her wand and placed it on the floor.

"Please, I just want to know more about the prophecy—about the war." She said the last word with emphasis. "I swear, I'm not a Pureblood maniac out to kill all Muggles, neither do I support the cause."

Harry seemed thoroughly confused. "How do you know so much?"

Jessica's stoic and stern exterior melted a bit—just a little—and she smiled genuinely. "Ravenclaws are known to be quite resourceful."

Harry seemed unconvinced. He gently probed Jessica's mind and found blurred images of elderly men and women floating about—everyone in the pictures was dead, their eyes were wide open, all of them were victims of the Killing Curse. The men and women in the pictures bore a shocking resemblance to Jessica Lancaster. Harry tried to probe a bit deeper, to find the murderer perhaps, but he was instantly pushed out of her mind with an electric jolt.

"I would prefer it if you didn't invade my mind, Potter," Jessica said with a scathing look on her face. She picked up her wand from the floor and narrowed her eyes. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't blast you with my wand."

Harry saw the tip of her wand light up. His instincts sparked up, and he almost went into a battle stance. He, too, withdrew his wand and ended the forthcoming spell by mumbling, "_Tempus sisto._" A golden hue shot from the tip of Harry's wand and wrapped itself around Jessica's wand. The red light at the tip of Jessica's wand stopped glowing and dimmed. Harry gulped and looked at Jessica. "Look, Lancaster, I'm sorry," he said. "I should _not_ have done that."

Jessica looked down at the wand in her hand, examined it carefully, and frowned. "What the hell did you do to my wand, Potter?"

"I'm being honest here. I'm very sorry," Harry continued, ignoring Jessica's concerns for her wand. "I didn't mean to invade your mind. Trust me. I'm very strict when it comes to Legilimency. I just wanted to make sure that you weren't . . . supporting the cause."

"They have truth serums for that, Potter," Jessica said, still bitter that Harry had invaded her mind. "What _did _you do to my wand, Potter. It seems to have frozen."

"Well, I froze the spell while it was just at the verge of burgeoning. Thus, the spell froze."

"How do I fix it?" Jessica asked curiously. The Ravenclaw within her was bursting to ask what the spell he'd used was called.

"Well, first point the wand away from yourself—no, not at me!—yeah, the wall seems like a good idea." Harry stepped closer and moved Jessica's arm at an ideal angle for trajectory. "And now, say _Finite_. It should cancel the suppression that I've placed upon it."

"Are you sure?" Jessica asked. She turned her head, and clumsily bumped it against Harry's head. The two teenagers held eye contact for a while, Potter's blue eyes speaking to her amber brown ones. Jessica quickly turned away, her golden hair covering the blush creeping on her stoic face. Harry leapt back soon afterwards and covered the forthcoming awkward silence with a clearing of the throat. Jessica finally uttered the magic word, "_Finite._"

At once, the tip of Jessica's wand lit up, and a ball of red light left the tip and crashed against the stone wall. Jessica yelped and leapt back. She almost collided against the hard, stone hallway floor, but Harry caught her hand and helped her up.

"You could have warned me about that, Potter," Jessica said.

"Well, I _could_ have," Harry said with a chuckle, "but, where's the fun in that?"

"Don't think I'm not cross with you anymore," she said, with a warning look. "You've just invaded a very precious part of me."

"Well, if you want, you can _obliviate_ me or something." Harry said with a solemn nod. "I honestly didn't want to invade your privacy. I really didn't."

Jessica looked taken aback. "You'll let me brainwash you, Potter?"

Harry slipped on a polite grin. "Not really," he said, "but, the thought is all that counts, right?"

Jessica moved closer and swatted Harry's arm lightly, almost teasingly. "You're a real prat, you know that?"

Harry grinned again and took a bow. "The finest prat out there, madam."

Jessica looked at Potter and frowned. He was still very much the same as before, but he had also changed all that much. He seemed so much nicer and politer than she'd ever perceived him to be. He also had a sense of morals, albeit that he'd just violated one of them in some sort of panic.

Harry realized that Jessica had become silent again and thought she was still angry with him. He sighed and said, "Look, I'm insanely sorry. I was daft, is what I was. I shouldn't have probed your mind. Please, you have to—"

Jessica stepped closer and enveloped the boy in a tight hug. The hug lasted for two seconds, but it had the desired effects. Harry stopped palavering and enjoyed moments of serenity and relief. Jessica pulled back and smiled.

"I'll forgive you," Jessica said, "if you let me in on the cause—your cause."

"You mean the prophecy?" Harry asked. She wanted to fight for the Light? How did she even know about the imminent war Voldemort would start in the first place? Most importantly, why did she care?

"When you make your decision, get back to me." Jessica said with a determination he hadn't seen before. "And don't try that mind trick again. Once you break my trust, it's hard to get back. Pleasure meeting you, Potter."

"Right," Harry replied. "Pleasure's mine." Harry watched Jessica walk away, towards the Ravenclaw tower presumably. He wondered whether to trust her or not. Should he talk to Dumbledore? Could he trust Dumbledore? Could he risk talking to Flamel about Jessica? Could he trust the Marauders? Could he trust anyone at all? Was it him and Voldemort again, a one-man army versus the Dark side? Or could he make his own army this time around?

Harry's thoughts wandered back to the hug. Was it normal for James Potter to come into close physical contact with every female he interacted with? And, did Jessica even know James well enough to initiate physical contact? Harry noted the portraits across the hallway. They had surely seen the interaction between Harry and Jessica—there would surely be rumors about the two before supper. He was sure of that. Harry shrugged and began walking towards Dumbledore's office.

He could care less for social integrity.

OoOoO

_Harry's POV_

All the way to Dumbledore's office, I couldn't keep my mind off of Jessica. She had hugged me! One part of me was telling me that this girl was either very dangerous and was in on a plot to kill me, or she wanted to drug me and present me to Voldemort, where I would still be killed. The other part of me was telling me to go back to her and immediately tell her that she was my newest addition to my circle of friends. Bipolar me, oh what woe! But honestly speaking, I feel that Jessica would make a very definite and loyal ally, perhaps even a very powerful one. That way, the one-man army would become a two-man army! Or rather, it would become a one-man-one-woman army!

Well, anyway, I entered Dumbledore's office with ease—I simply whispered **ζ**_Open_**ζ** in Parsel—and found him studying a book of some sort. At least, he was in his office this time. Dumbledore looked up at me and gave me a welcoming smile, a warm greeting. So, here's what happened:

"Sir, we have to start our Hocrux hunt immediately," I say. My voice is quite assertive and urgent. Dumbledore frowns and motions me to take a seat.

"What has caused your change in plans, Harry?" he asks.

"There's no change in plan, Dore," I say. "We should have started looking for the Hocruxes earlier. The longer we delay it, the better of a chance he has of survival. And the better a chance he has of altering the location of the Hocruxes."

"So, what is your plan?" He asks again. "We have the basilisk venom we need to destroy the hocruxes, am I correct?"

I nod and say, "I have decided to eliminate one hocrux every month, for the next six months. First, we will start with Ravenclaw's diadem. Then, we will eliminate the ring, then the diary, then the locket, and finally the snake. Any delays will be compensated for by the extra month of June. However, I really wish to end Voldemort's life by the end of this school year, so I don't want any delays."

Dumbledore almost flinches when I use the word 'kill.' He asks, "Are you sure that there is no alternative to killing him? Perhaps, there is still a chance, still hope that—"

"No, sir," I say firmly, "he cannot be saved. He has fallen very deep into the abyss of Darkness."

Dumbledore nods. "Very well, Harry, you will lead the fight this time. I trust you."

I bite my tongue. "I'm not much of a leader, sir. I am only a knight on the chessboard. I have never been good with plans."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore says, "you should expand your one-man army." He looks me in the eye and continues, "You should _trust_ your friends. Make new friends. One loyal friend is better than two hundred allies."

I frown. Can Dumbledore read my mind or something? I'm sure that my Occlumency shields are up at full-force. How can he penetrate my mental shields?

Dumbledore smiles and continues to rub Fawkes's crown. He looks up and says, "When you come in contact with those you trust," he steals a glance at Fawkes, "you become very powerful. Your will overpowers that of the opponent. True love and affection are powerful factors that lead to strong willpower. With willpower, you must change form and become someone you have never become. You must learn to manipulate perspective and view things from another course."

Now, that's something they don't teach you in textbooks. I'm not sure what he meant about the perspective stuff, but it seemed important. He implied that it would lead to success, so it must be important.

"Thanks for the information, Sir Dore," I say with a smile. Then I remember my being made pre-prefect. Dumbledore sees the frown on my face and braces himself for questions. I ask, "Why did you make me pre-prefect? And be perfectly honest with me, please?" I know Sir Dore will twist the truth, but it's worth a try.

Dumbledore sighs but is quick to reply. This almost fools me into thinking that he has multiple intentions besides the one I originally thought he has. He says, "Harry, pre-prefects are smart individuals who are often unaware the talent they posses." Here, Dore stops and allows me to digest the information. He continues, "You are not a normal teenager, from my observations—"

I roll my eyes and interrupt, "Well, yeah. I'm abnormal, a freak."

Dumbledore gives me an affectionate glare. "Harry," he says, "no matter what others say to you, and no matter what happens to you, do not think of yourself as a freak. You are anything but a freak, my boy. You are a wonderful young man, someone who has suffered too much for his age. You are unique and beautiful in your own way."

"Nobody likes me, Dore," I admit. "Nobody's ever liked me. They only liked me for my fame, for my wealth, for the fucking power. That's it."

Dumbledore stares at me for a long time, and he sighs. He says, "Harry, things happen in life. Life isn't what you want it to be. It isn't—"

"Fuck Life!" I stand up from my chair. "Fuck life and everyone in it!" I feel the room around me blur. I feel my nostrils flare, and my forehead begins to thump to the beat of my heart pumping.

"Harry," he says, "Life isn't fair. But you must live with the numerous vicissitudes. You must learn from your mistakes, from others' mistakes, and make the most of Life. Life is a game, and you are the player. Most of the time, you won't win. But when you do win, it will be a truly brilliant experience."

I feel lightheaded. Nonetheless, I continue my rant. I say, "Life is a game, sir, you are right. But, you never win. You think you've won, but really, you haven't. I thought Ron was my friend, sir, I really did. I thought Ginny was the only one for me, I really did. I thought Hermione was my sister in everything but blood, sir, I really did. But, they were all tricksters, sir. They were the jokers in the deck. I just have rotten luck, sir. I can never win at the game of life. And you know what, sir, I probably never will. In fact, I bet you all the money in my Gringotts account that soon after I fulfill the damn prophecy, I'll be on my way to the next great adventure." Having told someone what was on my mind eased the burden on my chest, and I sat down feeling much better than before.

Dumbledore stops to think, and finally says, "Betrayal is part of life. If you believe your friends have betrayed you—"

"There's no such thing as friends," I reply. "There are only allies."

Dumbledore sighs. He says, "I have no idea what you have suffered through, but believe me when I say that friends do indeed exist. It is your mission to pick the real and loyal ones from the phony ones. Betrayal is a part of life."

I look at Dore and ask, "Why? Why is betrayal part of life?" That is simply the worst question I could have asked of the bunch. What kind of question is that anyway? Then, as an afterthought, I add, "Why do people lie, sir?"

Dumbledore looks at me fondly. He smiles and says, "People lie to cover themselves and to make themselves feel better about themselves. They lie because they can't handle the truth. They cheat because they hide from the truth. You should never run from the truth.

"And, Harry, friends do exist. But true friends are very rare to find. Once you find them, you never want to let them go. Love is strong but rare as well."

I sigh and ask, "How will I know if I find a true friend or not? In my opinion, everyone in society is exactly the same. They're all humans, messed up individuals who have disgusting personalities. They're all greedy bastards, the lot of them."

Dore lets on a sad smile and says, "Harry, why must you see the pessimistic side of society? There is good and bad to everything."

"Love doesn't exist," I argue. "It's a common misnomer for lust."

Dumbledore gives a light chuckle and asks, "Did your parents not love you?"

"My parents," I reply, "were long dead before I even knew of their existence."

Dumbledore gives me a sad look and says, "What about your guardians?"

"The Dursleys despised me," I reply with a cool look. "The neighbors and the teachers from school took little note of my malnourished health. The authorities could care less if I was being abused or not."

"What of your magical guardian?"

I stop. _Sirius_. I lick my lips and say, "Well, Sirius definitely cared for me. But he didn't love me . . . I mean . . . well—" Wait, Sirius didn't love me? I never thought of that. Of course he bloody loved me. So, was love real then?

Dumbledore continues on his winning streak and says, "And what of my counterpart in your universe? He cared for you, did he not?"

"Well, Dumbledore left me with the Dursleys until I was eleven," I reply, but stop and frown. "But, he only did it to prevent me from getting traced down by Death Eaters still on the loose. But that didn't prevent emotional abuse. But he did apologize later on and he did help me . . . okay, sir, there are a few exceptions."

"And what of Isis?" Dumbledore asks with a bold smile. "Do you not love her?"

I stop. _Isis_. Of course I loved her. "Well, I certainly care for her. I would . . . I don't know—"

"True love and affection should never be confused, Mr. Potter," he says. "If you love someone, you would give up your life for them and be happy in doing so."

I paused. Is that what true love really was?

Dumbledore sees my reluctance. He says, "Tell me, Harry, would you give your life for Isis's?"

I clench my teeth. If I were to answer otherwise, I would be oblivious to my true feelings. "The first moment I get, sir, I would do it."

"Well," he says, "do you love Isis Potter?"

I smack my lips. There's no denying Dore's logic. "Yes, I do love Isis," I say, "but, she's also an exception."

"And," he asks, "what of your godson, Teddy?"

My eyes tear up. He wins the battle. "There are exceptions, sir," I reply. So far, there had been quite a lot of exceptions. Maybe my logic was a bit flawed? Maybe Dumbledore was right?

Dumbledore smiles and exclaims, "Exactly Harry! There are exceptions to every rule. There are bad friends—you are right—and there also false friends, those who are not really your friends. But, there are also _true _friends, those who stick by your side no matter what. And, there is fake love—that is lust, mostly teenage lust. But, there is also _true _love—and, there is only one true love. It is not that you have never been loved or never have had friends. It's just that you have not yet found _true_ love. You have not found _true_ friends. You have not yet experienced what it is like living in a _true_ family."

And that ended our conversation, or argument, rather. For the first time in history, I was rendered speechless. The old Dumbledore had never done that in my universe. I just could not answer back to Doctor Dore. His reasoning was very punctual and exact. He was right, of course, in a sense. It was then that I began to question myself. I questioned my ideals and wondered to myself: Had Ginny been fake love? Had she just been someone I had lusted over? Had I been part of some sort of teenage drama?

I wasn't completely convinced, but I stored this conversation in the back of my mind. It would remain very safe there, in case I ever needed to look at it again. Dumbledore and I started discussing hocruxes again, and before we knew it, it was time for the Halloween feast.

OoOoO

"Where's Remus?" asked Harry. He looked around the Gryffindor table. There were only a few individuals present. "Is he coming to the feast?"

"I don't know, James," Sirius replied. "I think he's in the bathroom."

"Great!" Harry exclaimed. He quickly ushered for the three boys to huddle together.

"What's so great about being in a bathroom?" Sirius asked.

"We have time to ourselves," Harry explained. "We can discuss the potions."

Sirius wrinkled his nose. "Look mate," he said, "you know Potions is my worst subject. Why would I want to discuss Potions class?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Sirius, are you ever serious?" Harry almost regretted saying that.

"Nope," Sirius grinned.

Peter frowned and, in a small voice, asked, "Are you talking about the Animagus potions you sent us over the summer?"

Harry's face brightened. "Yes, Peter, exactly that!"

"Animagus potions?" Sirius asked with a scrupulous frown. "You mean the slime water you sent me? Wasn't that a prank?"

Harry shook his head and said, "No, Sirius, those vials of potion were real."

Sirius snorted. "Well mate," he said, "whoever gave you those ripped you off or something. They were fake."

"How so?" Harry asked. "They worked fine."

"Well, they didn't work," Sirius said. "Nothing happened when I drank them."

Harry smiled. "Well, obviously they didn't work." Sirius and Peter gave Harry a weird look. "They aren't supposed to work on the first try. You need to keep trying until you see your animagus form."

"But I used all five of them," Peter said in a shrill voice, "and nothing happened."

"Well, I only used three of them," Harry said, "and I have to admit that I didn't see anything either."

"Well, there you go," Sirius said, raising his arms into the air. "They're all bogus. Go ask for a refund, James. They gave you slime water for the money in your pockets."

"But we can't give up, damn it," Harry said with frustration present in his eyes. "We just can't."

Sirius frowned. "Well, why not give up?" He asked. "It's not like we can do anything by becoming animagi."

"Have you forgotten already, dimwit?" Harry asked with clenched teeth.

"Forgotten what?" Sirius asked, oblivious and clueless. "Look mate, I don't know how becoming an animagus will help me cheat on tests or help me bone witches."

"But it will _probably_ help unite with your _furry _friend, won't it?" Harry gritted out.

"_Furry_ friend?" Sirius asked. "Who in the Merlin is . . . ?"

"Remus is coming," Peter said, alerting the other two.

Realization dawned upon Sirius's face. "Ohhhhhh," Sirius perpetuated the one-syllable phrase for much longer than necessary. "You mean Remus, right? He's a were—"

Harry slapped his hand over Sirius's mouth. "Don't announce it to the bloody world, Sirius. It's a secret."

Sirius nodded. "Yeah, we definitely need to keep trying," he said, "and need to make it up to our friend Remus."

"Need to make what up?" Remus asked. His cheeks were fuller than usual, his smile was finer than usual, and his hair was more ruffled than usual. "Were you gossiping behind my back?"

"Nope, Remie," Sirius coddled his best friend in hug, "but do tell about that dame you just snogged, eh?"

Remus's face tinted red, but he put on a proud smile. "She's beautiful, mates. Bloody beautiful."

"What's her name?" Harry asked. "Anyone we know?"

Sirius grinned and said, "Her name's Jessica Lancaster."

Harry, who was standing upright, suddenly toppled forwards, tripping over nothing. "What?"

Sirius grinned. "Just kidding. But now, we know you got a thing for that Ravenclaw chick, Lancaster."

"I do not," Harry gritted. "I don't believe in love."

Sirius looked at Harry's face with a blank expression for several seconds. Then, he started to laugh uncontrollably. "You're very funny Potter. Very funny. You're de—_lu_—sion—al. Want me to spell it out for you? Dee, ee, el, ee—wait no, I can't spell it."

~o~

Author's Commentary: Harry is quite a complicated person. He thinks that he doesn't believe in true love because of a few incidents back at his universe that he took way too seriously—teenage drama to the next level. Because of emotional abuse, he was hard to gain the trust of. When his trust was broken, even if done so slightly, Harry saw it as pure and utter betrayal. Thus, he's the way he is. He also attributes all advances girls make on him to the advances Ginny made, so he is very cautious of certain girls. He is also quite stubborn and reckless at times. If you see flaws in Harry's character in Chapters 3-8, point it out and tell me. Also, if you're actually reading the author's note, add your insight to Harry's broken character. What is one word you would use to describe Harry's character?

Review, critique, favorite, rate, save, whatever, but please don't flame this story unless you have good reasons to do so.


	12. Different Perspective

A Different Perspective

"What's the matter mate?" Sirius asked. The three pranksters, Harry, Sirius, and Peter, were standing in an abandoned room on the fourth floor. This room was the third hideout they had discovered that week. "It's nearing Christmas time. Don't look so sullen, James."

Harry shrugged and said, "Well, if people weren't so selfish, maybe I'd feel the holiday spirit more."

"What happened?" Peter asked, curious about what had turned James's mood so sour. A hint of fear entered Peter's eyes, which went unnoticed by the other two friends because it was only momentary.

"It's Lily Evans," Harry replied with gritted teeth. He then sighed and shook his head.

Sirius frowned and asked, "What did she say _this_ time you asked her out? Let me guess: did she finally get around to smacking you in the face? Because in that case, I would surely declare a war against t—"

"No, Sirius," Harry said, assuring him that no violence had been involved. "I didn't ask her anything. In fact, it was she who did the talking."

"Did she formally reject you?" Sirius asked, half-fearful, one-fourth disgusted, one-fourth amused. "She's done that too many times, that witch."

"We were patrolling," Harry recalled, "when she decided to tell me that she had stolen something from me."

"_What_?" Sirius exclaimed. "Lily Evans stole something . . . ? And from you, no less? Impossible!—it goes against her morals."

"I thought she had taken something of mine a while back. I reckoned she was too afraid to return it then, and I thought nothing of it," Harry said. "But she prolonged in giving it back to me. Still, I would have forgiven her, because all of us make mistakes, and I'm also pretty lenient at times. But, it turned out that she took something very important from me—something of great value and importance."

"W-was it that green book of yours?" Peter asked, joining the conversation.

"Oh, yeah," recalled Sirius. "Lily came to our train compartment and told me to give it back to you—on the train last summer, I remember now. I forgot to tell you about that. But, she didn't trust me with it, for some odd reason. What was that thing—that _book_?"

"She did that? She tried to return it?" Harry asked with a frown. "Well, anyway, that green book was my diary."

"Yeah, she came up to me and—_wait_, what? Did you just say it was . . . your _diary_?" Sirius asked with a shaky voice. He then turned to Peter and said, "I think I heard him wrong, but . . . did he just say diary?"

"It _was_ my diary," Harry gritted out. "She violated my personal space, and she didn't even bother apologizing for doing it until now. Bloody brilliant, that woman. And she didn't even apologize properly, I don't think. She just gives me this green book and goes, 'Here's your diary; sorry I took it,' and leaves. Freakin' brilliant, that woman."

"You have a diary?" Sirius asked incredulously. Harry nodded, to which Sirius replied, "You're more feminine than I had originally thought. I mean, really: a _diary_?"

"Diaries aren't _feminine_," Harry interjected with a frown. "They're useful tools: they're ways of pouring out emotional pain, and they can be used to record personal observations. Lots of famous people keep diaries, mate. Ever hear of Merlin's diary, that book with all that brilliant spellwork?"

Sirius looked to Peter and said, "What the hell is our James boy saying, do you know Peter?"

"Well," Peter said, wringing his fingers, "they're . . . like James said, they help you deal with . . . stress. And . . . emotional troubles—_what_ _James said_. And then, people record stuff in them, too."

Sirius frowned and looked to Harry, and asked, "Why would you need a diary, James? You're not a scientist all of a sudden, are you?"

Harry didn't know how to reply because he was partially unsure of his own answer. Why _did_ James keep a diary? Harry suspected family trouble, but was that the true reason? Harry reckoned James Potter would scoff at the idea of keeping a diary too. So, then, why _did _James Potter keep a diary? It seemed quite out-of-character for James Potter to keep a diary. But then again, James Potter wasn't the same James Potter people thought he was, now was he. Harry nodded. James must have suffered from emotional pain and teenage trouble, some way or another. But Harry wasn't exactly sure.

Fortunately, it was Peter who answered for Harry and said, "Sirius, don't you remember?"

"Remember what?" Sirius asked with a frown. It took a few seconds, but Sirius eventually got it. Suddenly, Sirius Black gasped and said, "Oh . . . never mind James. _Right_, I remember now. Sorry for having asked, and sorry for being such an arse. I know you don't like discussing this topic."

Harry remained a tad bit confused, so he asked, "Why would I need a diary?"

"I hadn't realized," said Sirius, "that your mother died when you were little, and that your parents separated when you were five. You must have had a lot of family problems, so that's why you kept a diary, isn't it? And also because of _Lily Evans_. She rejected you so many times, and broke your heart every time. And then . . . well, you know, those _times—_those arguments with your_ Dad_?"

"Oh," mumbled Harry. "I honestly didn't even remember. It's just that the Quidditch accident really messed up my memory, so I wasn't quick to recall . . . my past."

"You don't need to explain, mate," Sirius said with an assuring pat on the back. "I wouldn't want to remember my past if I were you either. It's alright. Forget the past, though. Forget Lily, forget your Dad, because we're here for you now, mate. We're here to help you build your future. It'll be a happy future, I assure you: one that will be full of sex, money, and fame."

Harry ingested the new information Sirius gave him, of James Potter's past, and was quick to recover from his glum mood. He cracked a solemn grin and said, "Thanks for the support, mate. You're a . . . true friend."

Harry blinked. A true friend. He looked at Sirius. A true friend?

"You must hate Evans," Sirius suddenly said, rolling his lip in thought. "I know I would if I were in your position. How dare she reject the great James Potter? I honestly haven't thought about it until now, but I realize that she really has been a _witch_, hasn't she? I mean, I just realized—she's got a hell of an attitude when it comes to dealing with you. You know, we should keep you away from her from now on, and we should . . . you need a girlfriend, mate. I mean, even Remus has one now. I mean, let's declare a prank war against Evans—give up on her and teach her a lesson for having messed with James Potter."

Harry smiled sadly and shrugged. He couldn't do that, he just couldn't. "I can't really keep a grudge against anyone, so no harsh feelings against her, Sirius," he said. "I guess that's my biggest weakness. But seriously, don't try anything. I just . . . I have too many enemies at hand already. I want to start making friends."

Friends. Harry sort of smiled. He liked the idea of real friends. He liked being around Sirius and Peter, people of his age, with whom he could talk to about whatever the hell he wanted. Friends. He liked the ring to it, friends. It had a nice ring to it. Friends.

"Hey, you alright?" Sirius asked, noting the sudden change in Harry's demeanor, from mad to sad to happy. "You're not having an emotional breakdown again, are you?"

"I guess I should forgive her for taking my diary," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. "Lily didn't really mean it, I guess not. I was just getting too worked up before."

Harry's eyes drooped to the ground. He hadn't many friends, but it wasn't too late to start making new ones. Lily Evans didn't seem that bad a person, at least not to Harry. She was bitter and caustic, that may seem true, but that was only because James had acted arrogant and childish in public. Lily wasn't a bad person. Harry could tell. Harry could tell that she was a true Gryffindor, loyal to friends at heart. He could tell loyal from bogus; it was part of his sixth sense.

Sirius was loyal. Remus seemed loyal. Even Peter . . . he seemed loyal.

Maybe Dumbledore was right. Maybe this time around, he'd need friends to kill off Voldemort.

"So, why are we here again?" Sirius asked, trying to avoid the topic of Lily Evans. "I'd rather be in bed reading—" Harry raised his eyebrows. "—the latest issue of PlayWizard." Sirius definitely knew how to lighten the conversation.

With a calm smile on his face, Harry said, "We're here to officially start the Marauders." Harry had introduced the idea of setting a name for the trouble-making group, and they had all decided upon: the Marauders—it was a good name to represent the four Gryffindors as the devious troublemakers that they were. Harry had also offered the idea that they start inducting new members during the course of the year.

Harry laid out a plan for the Marauders. He said that they would use this name from now on, for this name would keep their pranks covert and draw about an aura of mystery whenever anyone spoke of them. When asked by Peter as to the motives of the Marauders, Harry replied that the pranks to be carried out were a way of bringing change to Hogwarts, and this was to be the good kind of change.

Harry wanted the pranks to benefit the Hogwarts population, whether they be an outlet for stress or a method to endorse Hogwarts' moral codes. Harry instructed that the pranks not be at the least lethal; he did not want any person injured, even if that person was Slytherin—to this, Sirius grumbled but grudgingly agreed. Harry laid out a few more rules for the Marauders to abide by.

Finally, Harry ended his speech and said, "But remember, the key to all this is us three becoming Animagi. Animagi will not only help us remain undercover, but they will also help up later on in our life. As Animagi, we will have a freedom many others will lack, that's for sure. We will also have a deeper connection with our magic and have better coordination with our body and instinct. During our years at Hogwarts as Marauders, we'll remain the unofficial leaders of the school. We will support equitable causes; we'll help fellow peers when they are in need; we'll mentor the younger students, those first-years always getting picked on; we'll bring down unworthy causes as bigotry and discrimination; and we'll bring entertainment for others every so often. When we feel that the Marauders are headed in the right direction, we'll start inducting new pranksters, the induction starting as early as March."

Sirius gave a wolf whistle and said, "Since when did you get so good at planning, eh James? Well, I guess Quidditch instincts did play into—but _still_, how in the ruddy hell did you learn so much about Ani—well, I suppose you probably read about Animagi over the summer." Harry simply nodded, reassuring Sirius of his erroneous assumptions. "But _still_ James, you're . . . smarter than I thought. Good job, mate! If I could and if you were running, I would vote for you as Minister of Magic!"

"Speaking of Animagi, do you think the potions will work?" Peter asked timorously. "They didn't work before."

"Of course they'll work," Harry said. "If you want to succeed, you have to think optimistically, Pete. If you do that, eventually, you'll succeed. If you don't want to succeed, well, think like a pessimist, and you'll never succeed."

"Who told you that?" Sirius asked, genuinely suspicious of his friend's wisdom now.

"I told myself that," Harry said with a smile. He pocketed the green book, which he'd kept tightly in his right hand, into his knapsack. He produced a large vial containing green fluid and smaller ones from the same knapsack. "And besides, I altered the potions a bit. I'm pretty sure they'll work this time."

Harry began pouring the potions into three containers from the much larger container. The slimy green substance emitted a sizzling sound as it touched the bottom of each of the containers, and this disgusted the three boys present in the room. When the containers were half-full, Harry put a stopper on the big potion bottle and gave a vial to each of his fellow pranksters, putting the original container away.

"What did you do to these potions?" Sirius asked. "These potions didn't seem half as toxic before. Now, well, they look very lethal."

Harry grinned. "Well, I added tears of the tears of a phoenix to the potion and added a few other rare ingredients to make the potion more reactive and efficient in inducing the effects of our Animagus forms."

"W-where did you get the ingredients?" Peter queried.

"From Dumbledore's office, of course," Harry replied. "He was legitimately content in aiding in our intentions."

"You got Dumbledore involved?" Sirius asked with an unbelieving exaggerated grimace. "Are you mad, James? Now, all our pranks will be doomed."

"You know, Dumbledore always knew about our pranks," Harry said. "It was just that he didn't do much to stop us because he saw the pranks as a way of alleviating the stress from the Hogwarts population. He's always liked our pranks."

"So," Sirius said, "what you're saying is that Dumbledore is never going to let us prank again?"

"I never said that," Harry said. "As a matter of fact, Dumbledore is supportive of our pranks. He's supportive of what we're doing right this moment. He actually helped me to brew this altered potion. This new potion will not only help you see what your Animagus form is, but it will also help your body start making necessary adaptations so that your first transformation, which will hopefully be in January, will be fairly comfortable and not a bit painful."

"So," Sirius said, "what you're saying is that Dumbledore is never going to let us prank again?"

Harry rolled his eyes and asked, "Are you even listening to what I'm saying?"

Sirius chuckled weakly and said, "Well, I would listen, if you didn't use such long sentences."

"T-to sum it up," Peter interrupted, a quiet frown on his face, "James is saying that D-dumbledore helped him prepare that potion, and that potion will help us become Animagi quicker."

"Thanks for the simplification, Peter," Sirius said. He was surprised that Peter had actually contributed to the conversation. "Sounds pretty risky if you ask me, don't you think so James? You've never been any good at Potions."

"I guess we gotta t-trust him, Sirius," Peter said with a meek stutter in his voice. He gulped and gave a hesitant smile at Harry, who in turn smiled back at Peter's newfound loyal trust.

Trust. Harry was starting to like this idea of "friends."

"Well," Harry said, "let's drink up, shall we gents?"

"This better not kill us, James," Sirius grumbled quietly. He eyed the acrid color of the potion inside of his vial. "Or worse: it better not make us all sexually infertile and unable. Ugh, if my wanker miraculously falls off or something, I swear James, I _will _make you pay."

Harry laughed and said, "Stop doubting me, Siri. Just _trust_ me."

Sirius harrumphed and stomped his foot. Eventually, Sirius let a smile play onto his face and said, "Fine, James mate—cheers: to you and to all the pranks to come!"

At this, the three boys raised their potion vials into the air and spoke in unison, "Cheers." But just as the steel-rimmed glass containers touched their dry lips, Sirius interrupted the process.

"Wait," Sirius said, moving the potion a few centimeters away from his mouth. The other two looked at him with confusion. "I just remembered: what about our Marauder names? You said that we needed codenames of sorts. Shouldn't we think of our codenames now?"

"We'll decide on them later," Harry said with a smile. He neared the vial of Animagus potion to his mouth again. "You never know—we might get new ideas after we use this potion. It'll help us discover ourselves from a different perspective. And trust me, once you see yourselves in a different perspective, you'll have a _very_ good idea for a Marauder name."

OoOoO

_Harry's POV_

I chugged down the potion without hesitation. I didn't want to doubt myself again. I could already feel my brain working its gears, trying its best to warn me not to drink the potion. It was telling me that what I was about to do—drink the potion—was a very dangerous thing to do. But we couldn't have that, now could we? I couldn't have my wits overpower my instinct—no, I just couldn't! I really _had_ to rely on my instinct—my instinct was almost always right—and my instinct, at the moment, was telling me that this whole turning-into-Animagi thing was going to be bloody useful later on. And bloody cool, too. I mean, imagine turning into a dragon and flying and breathing fire and . . . let's get back to the story, yeah?

I'll admit it—I had never tried the Animagus potion before, and I didn't quite know what the results of drinking it would be. I was relying upon pure serendipity and knowledge for the time being. As for the potion's authenticity and quality and legitimacy, I was almost certain. Well, I was ninety-nine percent certain that the potion wouldn't kill us. Besides my confidence in myself, I trusted Dumbledore, and he'd told me earlier that the potion I brewed was good—in fact, he complimented me, saying that the potion was first-rate. So, I was pretty sure that the potion wouldn't harm me or my friends. As for the desired results, I was not so certain. I wasn't sure if the potion would give me real visions of my Animagus form, or if it would simply induce feelings of bland nothingness. Well, all this self-doubting diminished as soon as I let the cool potion run past my lips, over my tongue, and down my throat.

Instantly, I fell the world around me blur. I felt my knees wobble, and I must have fallen to the ground. I heard a shattering in the distant, and figured I'd dropped the vial. I felt very light-headed and began to zone out. My senses began to deteriorate, and soon, I began to lose control over my human self. Of course, this sent me into panicked hysterics—being unable to perceive the world through my senses made me feel so weak, so useless, so powerless. But, even though my connection to my human self lessened, I _felt_ the bridge between my magic and my soul—I felt it slowly strengthen. I felt magic, magic I'd never felt before, surge into my body. I closed my eyes as an immense pain struck my spine. The voices around me—those of Sirius, those of Peter, and those of glass vials shattering against the hard stone floor—the voices began to dim. It was almost as if someone was turning the volume knob down, bit by bit. My ears began to tingle, and my hearing morphed from low ends to higher ends. There were whispers, hushed voices, and obnoxious shouts, all reverberating around me. I tried to open my eyes, but I could not, for the pain in my back was becoming almost unbearable. The control over my body parts—my fingers, my thumbs, my arms, my legs, my neck, my knees, my joints, over everything—it was numbed. I began to panic again. I tried to suppress the pain. I opened my mouth to scream, tell the magic to stop fucking with my body.

Then, just as painfully slow as all this happened, the next part—the transition phase—happened much too quickly for me to understand. Everything around me went eerily quiet. I felt a shivering breeze brush past my body, and my body shivered. I heard flapping of wings. Then, all of a sudden, my throat began to ache, as did my eyes. I breathed through my nose and noted a peculiar scent in the air—a scent so very sweet, it made me want to swoon and fall into a dreamless sleep for eternity. I tried to open my mouth and was surprised to learn that I could open it. I tried saying something, but all that came out were melodious trills. At once, I was on high alert. What had happened to my masculine, human voice? I perked my ears, and soon realized that I had regained my senses. I heard a rushing waterfall in the distance, the flapping of wings to my left, and the brave swaying of trees below. I jerked open my closed eyelids and was greeted by the beauty of nature. The sight in front of me left me in awe.

I was high in the cerulean sky, and I was looking down. Below me was a tropical rain forest, covered densely with trees of all shades of green. There were birds and creatures of all sorts too, here and there, on the tree branches, on the ground, in the air—but, there were birds mostly, roaming about in the air, I noted. I turned my head sideways and grasped my surroundings with quick ease. My eyes, it seemed, had become very keen and astute. I could see the detailed greenery for miles in every direction. I moved my arms and was delighted to note that I could control the flapping of my wings. I swooped down, headfirst at the flowing river below my flying form. I plunged into the river, shook my tail feather underwater, spun around underwater, and dove back up into the air, emitting a jocund chirp of my own. The experience was exhilarating. Just then, I looked down into the river and noted my own reflection. I cocked my head sideways and studied the majestic bird in the reflection. Was that really me? Could I really be that elegant bird, that one in the reflection? Could this beautiful bird, the one that stared back at me, the bird that was so vibrant and iridescent—could this bird really be me? Could the bird be that once haggard Harry Potter? I closed my eyes and opened them again. Surely, there had to be a mistake. Surely, I must have mistaken my own form for another magnificent creature. I studied the reflection in the water again. Boy was I delighted.

A dark red bird, one with brilliant green eyes, a purple crown, and proud black tail feathers, stared back at me. I couldn't believe it. I really couldn't. I chirped out loud in shock and took off into the free sky above. I, Harry Potter, that freak with the stupid lightning scar, was a bird Animagus. Bloody hell. Could you believe that? Well, I sort of had already guessed that I wouldn't have a normal Animagus, but still!

And I wasn't just any bird Animagus. My Animagus form was a phoenix! Well, that does explain how I was able to "fire apparate" out of the chamber of Secrets when I saved Isis's life last year. But, just still—wow!

I, Harry Potter, was a beautiful bird Animagus. Bloody hell. Bloody, bloody hell. I had half expected myself to be an ant . . . or a cockroach . . . or something of that sort. I mean, ants and cockroaches are strong, but they're scourges, always hated on by society. They're constantly stepped on, just like me, don't you think? I mean, phoenixes are magnificent creatures. I didn't . . . deserve such a worthy title. Wow, I was surely amazed. Bloody hell.

This day was going great. I mean, it started off a bit bad, with Lily telling me she'd stolen my diary, but it'd gotten so much better since. I realized how good friends both Sirius and Peter were, and then I realized how loyal true friends could be. And then, I realized that Lily had sincerely been sorry, and that I'd just overreacted. And then, I learned that that my Animagus form was a phoenix!

Everything was going great, really. Just great.

And then, all of a sudden, just when things were going great . . . something happened.

OoOoO

_Sirius's POV_

James Potter was out of his bloody mind. What in the bloody hell was he thinking? Do you realize how painful the potion was? I must have screamed for hours before the pain died down. But, I guess, I do have to compliment him for making the potion, because it actually worked. But, it _was _bloody painful.

I woke up, numbed from the pain, on rich, dry grass. I opened my eyes and was shocked to see that my eye sight had been limited. Where was my perfect vision? I almost panicked. I got up and was surprised to note how short I had become. When I tried to stretch my hands, I crashed to the ground. It was then that I noted my arms were supporting my body weight. I looked down and yelped: I was on all fours. And not only that, but I had paws! I opened my mouth and let out something that sounded like I bark. I grinned to myself: I could bark. Bloody hell, I began to move on my paws and realized how quick I was on my feet—er, my paws. I saw the Hogwarts Lake to my left and looked at my reflection. I cracked a grin, a very feral and _Sirius_ grin.

Boo yeah! Who was a wolf for an Animagus? I was! Whose Animagus form was a bad-ass wolf? Mine! It was Sirius Black's Animagus form that was a black grim, bloody yes!

But wait, I said to myself. My grin faltered, only a bit, from confusion. I frowned. Wait, I wasn't a wolf. No, no, no. I was . . . I smirked even more wickedly this time. I wasn't a wolf, no sire. I was a black dog. Oh Merlin, this was great. It really was. Do you realize what this meant? I was _the _Black Dog, the one from the fucking legends. I let out a long howl. I was the black grim! I let on another grin. Imagine all the pranks I could pull off with this Animagus form!

Then I frowned. James had called me Padfoot. Did he know what my Animagus form would be? Padfoot was quite fitting for my form. Did he know I would so closely resemble the haunted black dog from the legends? Damn that James Potter, he knew something, or he was hiding something, wasn't he? I was determined to find out.

All of a sudden, my surrounding swirled into a black and white, and I was back in the abandoned room on the fourth floor.

At once, I knew something was wrong.

There was broken glass all over the floor, but that was probably from before. That wasn't what I was worried about. It was James! Peter was kneeling next to James, and James seemed to be having a fit.

I rushed to kneel next to him. I turned to Peter, who looked a bit worried and scared, and asked, "What happened?"

Peter turned to me and shivered. He bit his lip and said, "J-james . . . he's been trembling and . . . he was shouting and . . . I'm scared Sirius. I-I don't know. What if something happened to . . . ?"

My thoughts began to settle to the bottom of my mind. Time around me slowed down. The room around me seemed to enlarge before my very eyes. James was in trouble. "But he shouldn't be," I blurted out, trying to reassure myself. "It worked for us, didn't it? The potion worked fine, right Pete? So, James shouldn't be in trouble." I hoped not.

Peter shivered. "I don't know, he—"

James began to thrash back and forth. I held him by both of his hands and helped him stay put on the ground. "James," I whispered, scared for his life. "Please, James, wake up mate."

James began to shout loudly, and he shook ever so violently. "No you won't, Voldemort! You hear me, you bastard? Don't you dare get near her, you hear? You're nothing. . . ."

"James!" I shouted as I shook the unconscious boy. What the hell was going on? Who was Voldemort? "James, wake up. It's only a dream!" Still, James wouldn't wake, and he kept shouting. Suddenly, I felt a surge of magic emanate from James's body, and it echoed off of the walls in the room. That was when I knew that something was terribly wrong.

"Sh-should I go get Dumbledore?" Peter asked.

I bobbed my head, keeping my hands over James's arms, and said, "Yeah, Pete, hurry up and get him."

James began to tremble and the violent thrashing subsided. "You won't succeed, Voldemort, not this time." His teeth began to chatter.

I licked my lips.

What was going on?

I felt myself shiver.

Why did James always have to suffer? I recalled all the moments in James's life, all the sad moments. I remembered his mother's funeral. He hadn't cried in public. He'd been brave. I remembered the day he'd tried to commit suicide. He hadn't cried. He never cried, at least not in front of others. All the times he'd gotten rejected by Evans. He hadn't cried then either, even though his heart was aching.

James once told me that he didn't want others to suffer and feel anguish because of his own sufferings. I shook my head. Fucking noble bastard, that was James. But he was always in pain. I could feel it, whenever he'd crack a joke, or whenever he'd laugh. You could tell, just by looking into his eyes, because his eyes were eternally a sad blue.

But . . . why? Why did it have to be James? Why did Fate have to be so cruel towards my best friend? I used to think I had it bad, with my stupid mother and all, but then, I met James. His life seemed at least ten times as worse as mine.

Suddenly, I had an epiphany of some sort. I lost some of my childishness. I put on the socks of adulthood. Suddenly, the teenage Sirius Black was no more. At that very moment, seeing the helpless body of my best mate trembling below me, I felt the reality of life strike my back.

This was reality. It was time to grow up, a voice inside of my head echoed. The urgency of the situation—the seriousness of it all—it struck me _hard_. I looked down at James. I hoped he was okay. I could only hope. I felt worthless, for I had no medical skills, neither Muggle nor Magical. Only if I'd paid more attention in class . . . maybe then, I would know what to do in this type of situation. I felt powerless. I wanted to blame someone for this, anyone but myself.

Just then, the door behind me creaked open. I was almost relieved, almost. "Professor Dumbledore, you have to—_wait_, you're not Dumbledore."

Lily Evans frowned and said, "Of course I'm not some barmy old professor, Black. Where's James? I thought I heard—" Then her gaze fell onto poor James's unconscious form. "What in the—_Merlin_!" She rushed to kneel next to me. She examined the broken pieces of glass around her and asked, "What happened? What is that stench?" She looked at James and asked, "Is he alright?"

I frowned. Did she just ask what had happened? Did she want to know if he was alright? What the hell was she worrying about all of a sudden? I would think that she could _care less if James died_, to quote her verbatim.

All of a sudden, I don't know why, but I felt extremely protective of James. Something inside of me just erupted; the raw emotion inside of me erupted, much like does ash and debris out from a silent volcano. I couldn't bear to see my best friend come close to dying again, or have to suffer from so much pain. I glared at her. I needed someone to blame, and she seemed like the best option at the time. It was her fault, I thought to myself. James was always in pain, and she was part of the reason why James was always in pain. Fucking Evans! I felt enraged, for the sake of my friend. And she had the audacity to ask what was going on—to ask what was wrong? James was broken from the inside, my poor mate. Of course he wasn't "alright."

"What the hell do you want, eh Evans?" I asked. "Come to gloat at my friend, have you? Ridicule him for keeping a diary?" I was beyond mad, now, and that was scary. I never got mad, ever, and whenever I did, it wasn't a pretty sight. From the inside, I was crying helplessly, because of my friend; from the outside, I was furious, because of my friend.

Evans frowned and looked at me. Surprisingly, I didn't scare her one bit. "_No_, I was just looking for James . . . for our Prefect patrol. He was late, and I asked Peter where . . . and, well, he was in a rush and he told me that he was here, so I came here. And then I heard shouting and assumed that you boys were up to something and I thought—"

"Well, you thought wrong!" I growled. I was hysterical at that point; I couldn't bear to think of James anymore. It was too painful. I don't know, but I just couldn't think straight. My mind was in shambles, my logic was in ruins. "Can't you see that he's in no condition to carry out his fucking patrol duties? There's much more important stuff in the real world than following rules. Get the hell out! I know you don't care for my friend, so just get out! You're here to get us in trouble, aren't you? You're here to cause James more pain, aren't you? Break his heart again? Kill him, once and for all, why don't you?"

Lily Evans glared right back at me. "It might be shocking, but I _do _care. I care for James just as much as you do, _Black_." Then she turned to James, and her gaze softened. "And I never meant any of those things in the past. The past . . . is the past. It was all a mistake, a big misunderstanding on our parts."

"Don't try to act smart, Evans," I growled. "You can't heal broken hearts, can you?"

Lily ignored my comment and pretended not to look hurt by what I'd said. But what I'd said was only the truth. She really _had _hurt James, in ways unimaginable. "What happened to him? Have you . . . is he . . . have you sent for help yet?"

I nodded, albeit still a bit harshly. I didn't believe her. Why the hell did she care for James _now_? The gears inside my head began to roll. Was it because she realized James no longer had a crush on her, and that James was going for that Lancaster chick now? I gritted my teeth. There was no way, not on my watch, that Evans would disturb the blossoming relation between Lancaster and James. I'm telling you: I couldn't think straight. My head was all fuzzy, and the world around me wasn't making any sense, and I felt horrible. All the rage inside of me was slowly melting—melting into sorrow.

"Yeah," I said, a bit softly. "Peter's gone to get Dumbledore."

I frowned again. Where the fuck was Dumbledore when you needed him most? I felt my insides scrunch up. I was feeling terrible, just awful. I felt sick to the stomach. What was going on? My friend . . . James was in trouble. And here I was, unable to do anything.

Lily bent over and tucked a few strands of James's hair behind his ear. I gritted my teeth, but I suppressed the urge to strangle Evans. How dare she . . . touch James so intimately! Was she playing games now?

"Don't you dare touch him," I said, in a threatening voice. My voice began to tremble by the end of the sentence.

Lily ignored my threats and put the back of her hand on James's forehead, quite affectionately, may I add, and said, "He's really hot."

"This isn't time for flatteries, Evans," I said, my eyes narrowed, my head trembling, either from rage or worry. Had she just noticed, just _now_, that my best friend was handsome? Well, it took her long enough. "He's in danger, and you decide that this is the time to compliment him—to tell us that he's hot?"

Lily had the decency to blush, but she glared at me. "I _meant_ that he's come down with a fever or something. He should really get medical attention."

"James has a fever?" I asked as my legs began to tremble and a shock ran up my spine. Well, this was turning out to be quite severe—quite the disaster. "Well, what should we do?" I asked, letting my sudden grudge against Evans slide. "Do you have any potions at hand?"

Hey, maybe she can help him, I thought to myself. Yeah, maybe Lily knew what to do. Maybe she could save James.

"You boys really are clueless," she mumbled. She took out her wand and produced a cool wet cloth. Then, like a mother does to her sick child, she began to rub the cool cloth over James's forehead, in a back and forth motion. "What is taking Dumbledore so long? Where's Peter?"

I frowned. Did Evans actually care for James, all of a sudden? What the bloody hell was going on? Nothing, _absolutely nothing_, was making sense. Nothing! Who the hell was Voldemort? Why the hell was my best mate having a fit? Why the hell was Evans caring for James now? Why the hell were tears rolling down my cheeks? What the fuck was going on!

"Why do you care?" I blurted out. I quickly wiped the tears from my face. "Honestly, why do you care? Why are you doing this? Why haven't you left yet? Why is Fate so stupid?"

Lily continued to move the wet cloth over James's forehead. "I don't know, really," she whispered. "I just feel that . . . I should be nicer to him."

I didn't know how to reply. All of a sudden, the dam broke. I couldn't control myself. The tears began rolling down my cheeks, and I began to shiver. I began to sob.

Lily noticed that I'd gone hysterical and asked, "What's wrong Sirius?"

"This is the second time," I whispered, "that I've seen James come close to . . . death."

I saw Lily look at me with a sympathetic look. "I'm sure he's alright."

"You don't understand," I said, my head in my hands, "how much he's gone through, and how I've had to watch him suffer."

I could tell, Lily was scared now, seeing _me_ in sobs. "I-I'm sure he's alright."

Right then, James began to squirm around. Lily turned her attention towards him, as did I. I was prepared to hold James down in case he began to thrash violently.

"We should really go get Madame Pomfrey," Lily said. "Or bring him to the Infirmary. This isn't normal."

To my relief, the doors behind burst open and Dumbledore, followed by a couple others, entered the room in a rush. "Step aside, Sirius," the headmaster said. I quickly complied. Lily, too, quickly stepped back.

"C'mon, my boy, wake up," he whispered desperately. I watched as Dumbledore produced his legendary wand and waved it over James. "It's alright, Harry, wake up. It's not real."

James began to thrash ever-so-violently. His head began to twitch, and he began to bellow in pain. Lily and I backed away, both of us shocked and afraid. I saw Peter step next to me, and he too seemed sullen. Peter nudged my arm and said, "I'm sorry I couldn't get Dumbledore sooner."

I simply watched the wicked scene before me. "James, mate," I whispered, "please come back."

Someone, I don't exactly recall who and not exactly how or when, pushed between Peter and I, and rushed to kneel next to James. I frowned and realized it was the little girl, Isis was it? What was she doing here?

Isis, with much authority, set her hand on James's chest and did something, I don't know what. I couldn't tell; Dumbledore was blocking the view. But then, I heard her whisper something. She whispered: "Daddy Harry, wake up. You're safe."

What happened next was surreal, but I swear on my magic it was _real_. A golden string of light left Isis's hand and it enveloped James's body.

And then, as if it were a miracle, James opened his eyes.

OoOoO

_Harry's POV_

All of a sudden, I wasn't a bird flying up in the air anymore. I wasn't a phoenix anymore. Suddenly, I was a soul without a body again, and I was somewhere else—someplace very dark.

I looked around me and noted that it was dark, very dark. There was black, everywhere I looked. Then, I heard voices. Voices that sent shivers down my spine. Again, like I had been a few months before, when I crash-landed into this universe, I was detached from a human body. I was bodiless, yes, but not soul-less. I tried to go nearer to the voices and succeeded in swimming through the abyss. The closer I got, the more frightening it got. Suddenly, I was in a room.

And Voldemort was looking right at me.

I shouted and tried to produce my wand, but could not.

I realized, then, that he wasn't looking at me; rather, he was looking right through me.

"Vladimir," he croaked out, "what news do you have?"

I looked behind me and noted that a skinny man stood upright. The man had long brown hair and striking green eyes. I almost gasped: his eyes bore a shocking resemblance to mine. Who was he?

"You always ask the same question, Tom," he replied lazily. "Haven't you got anything else to say? Why can't we discuss Quidditch or something. Ask me why I dig French women, eh Tom? Honestly, being a dark lord is so . . . dreary and boring. How can you cope, Tom mate?"

The dark lord snarled. "I asked you a question, Vladimir!"

The man sighed and dutifully replied, "The prophecy has begun to unravel itself. The guardian and Chosen One are both at Hogwarts."

"Who is the Chosen One?" asked the dark lord. "Who can possibly match my infinite power?"

Vladimir chuckled. "Well, I can match you, Tom. You know that, don't you?"

The dark lord snarled. "You are my ally by magic, Vladimir. You wouldn't dare go against me, or you would lose your magic and all your abilities."

"Well," said Vladimir, "being a Time Mage does have its advantages. Time and magic are not exactly intertwined. I can do so much, with time, without using magic. I can see into the fourth dimension and even—"

"That matters not," said Voldemort, interrupting his ally. "Tell me of the Chosen One and his guardian angel."

Vladimir sighed. "I cannot say much about the Chosen One, for the Unspeakables's terms in the Department of Mysteries are quite strict, so they hardly speak of him. They haven't much information about him anyway. But, I do know of her—his guardian angel."

"Well," Voldemort said, impatiently, "who is she? Is she a Time Mage, much like you are? Is she an apprentice of Dumbledore? Is she a descendent of Merlin?"

"Nothing that fancy," Vladimir chuckled. "No, she is a mere child of seven years."

"The guardian angel is a _child_?" Voldemort bellowed, and then began to cackle. "The prophecy is surely mistaken. How can a mere child protect the Chosen from his demise by my hands?"

I frowned. Were they talking about the prophecy? I was the Chosen One, wasn't I? But who was she—the guardian angel? I had my suspicions, but it couldn't be _her_, could it? Could it be . . .

"Yes," said the man, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "it is a mere child who will defeat you."

Voldemort narrowed his red eyes. "You know their names and their identities, do you not?"

Vladimir shrugged unfazed and said, "Nothing much, only bits and pieces."

"Well, speak," ordered Voldemort. He aimed his wand at the lanky Vladimir. "Tell me, or prepare to suffer."

"I will only help you as much as I can, Tom," replied the man. "That was the deal."

"Don't you seek revenge, Vladimir?"

"Yes," Vladimir gritted his teeth, his stature becoming somewhat serious for the first time. "I shall avenge my children when comes the right time."

"Then, you must join me, Vladimir, pour your heart into it."

Vladimir spat on the ground. "I shall never steep as low as you, Tom. Never will I murder innocents in cold blood, nor hurt children for a wicked cause."

"You are a fool, Vladimir!" Voldemort cried out.

Vladimir chuckled. "You are a fool, too, Tom. Immortality is impossible. The strings of time will get to you, eventually. The gears of the eternal clock cannot be restrained for too long. Even me, Tom, a Time Magus; even I cannot achieve immortality."

"Come now, Vladimir," said Voldemort, "you must forget those silly thoughts. Together, we can forge an impeccable empire, one that shall never fall, a perfect empire, run by the two of us."

"I only wish to exact revenge, Tom," said Vladimir. "I don't grudge against the entire Light. I only grudge against the Leader of the Light, for his actions."

"If you kill Dumbledore, you will be asking for war!" Voldemort said. "It is better to wage war and kill Dumbledore in the war."

Killing Dumbledore? I wondered to myself. What did Dumbledore have to do with all this?

"You are a lunatic, my friend. How can you possible win, with your wicked behavior?" Vladimir shook his head. "The Chosen One _can_ win—he _will_ win Tom, you do realize this?"

I frowned. I _could_ win? I _would_ win? How did this man know, and why was he siding with me?

"You will aid me, Vladimir," Voldemort said. "You shall aid in the killing of the Chosen."

Vladimir sighed. "As long as I get my revenge, I shall comply. After all, we are allies. I will see . . ."

Voldemort smiled. "Now, tell me of this—_guardian angel_ of his."

I scrutinized my gaze on the Vladimir person. Did he know about my guardian angel? Was _she _really the guardian angel?

"I believe her name to be Nicole Ellington," said Vladimir. "She was to die a few months ago, but, with the arrival of the Chosen One, Time was bent at the wills of Fate and Destiny, and she survived. She is currently under his ward, and is under the official name of Isis Potter."

I gasped, or at least tried to (you see, I didn't posses any body parts at the moment). Isis was my guardian angel? I had suspected that, but now . . .

"Interesting," Voldemort mumbled. "Is the Chosen One, then, Charles Potter?"

"I cannot say," Vladimir said, "for I do not know too many specifics. However, I can say, for sure, that the Guardian Angel is Isis Potter."

_I can say, for sure, that the Guardian Angel is Isis Potter._ These words seemed to ring inside of my head, like lugubrious bells tinkling ever-so-mockingly. Isis was involved in the war, wasn't she? She was part of the stupid prophecy? Poor Isis. Poor, poor Isis. Poor me.

"Excellent," Voldemort bellowed, raising his wand into the air. "We shall rid this world of Isis Potter at once."

"No!" I shouted at once. "You will not hurt Isis, you hear me Voldemort?" I tried to punch that bastard, tried to land a sucker punch. But, you see, I hadn't any arms, or any body parts at all. And apparently, Voldemort couldn't hear me.

Vladimir frowned. "Well, that may be a difficult task."

"Why is that?" Voldemort asked. "She is a mere child. I will kill her. I will torture her until I hear her scream my name!"

"No you won't!" I bellowed, my voice echoing from left to right. My echoes, however, simply melted into the sea of voices around me. "You won't win this time, not this time you won't. You hear, you bastard? This time, I'll rip you to pieces. This time, you won't get close to any of my friends, any of my loved ones. Not close at all, you hear? You stay away from her!"

But of course, the Dark Lord couldn't hear me.

Vladimir sighed. "Isis Potter is currently at Hogwarts, Tom. That place is as safe as Gringott's, if not safer."

"No matter," said Voldemort. "We shall attack Hogwarts."

"Tom, you amaze me," Vladimir drawled. "Do you honestly expect to break the ancient wards of Hogwarts, get past the Hogwarts staff, defeat Dumbledore, kill the targets, and get out unscathed? You need an army, Tom. As a leader, you aren't supposed to go into battle unless absolutely needed."

"You shall aid me," Voldemort said. "Together we—"

"Will fail," Vladimir said. "What makes you think I will aid you in attacking innocent children at Hogwarts anyway?"

"Fine," Voldemort shouted impatiently. "Start recruiting Hogwarts children. And, what of the Dementors, and of the Creatures?"

"I have already started," Vladimir said, with a tired look almost. "And these Hogwarts students are no longer children, but wicked creatures much like you are. I shall . . . get to recruiting the Creatures."

Voldemort smiled. "Together, Purebloods shall unite and rule this world."

"Good luck," Vladimir snorted, "DarkLord Tom Marvolo _Half-Blood_ Riddle."

"_Crucio_!" Voldemort aimed the curse at Vladimir. The curse sailed towards the man, but the lanky ally dissipated just as the deadly curse came into contact with his body. The Time Mage reappeared a few centimeters behind Voldemort.

"You are a silly, silly Dark Lord, Tom. You never learn. You repeat your mistakes, only in different ways."

Just then, my head began to ache with extreme pain, and my vision was blinded. I felt pain and anger, and the place where my scar would be—that part of my head began to throb. I cried out loud and began to thrash back and forth. My scar was gone; the hocrux inside my soul should have been gone. So then, why was my scar hurting? Did I still have a scar, and was it just invisible? Or was this pain for a different reason?

Then, the pain died down. I opened my eyes, just a crack, and noted a lone figure standing in front of me.

It was James Potter.

He had a smile on his face.

"Come, Harry, let's get out of here."

"Who are you?" I wondered out loud.

James continued to smile. "Come, Harry, your friends are waiting for you."

My mind blurred. "Who are you? Is this real? Am I dead?"

"You can't be dead. Isis is waiting for you, Harry," James said. "You mustn't delay any longer. They're waiting for you."

"_Daddy Harry_!" A voice reverberated from above. I looked up and saw clouds the color of the deep blue sea. Behind James, there were stairs. No doubt, they lead up into the clouds.

James held out his hand. "Come, I'll help you get out. I promise."

And before I knew it, I was staring into the brilliant blue eyes of Isis Potter.

"You're awake!" Isis screamed. She hugged me tightly.

"Yeah, pumpkin," I whispered as I closed my eyes. I felt my soul settle back into the body of James Potter. I regained power over my body. Only, this time, I felt an odd entity of magic located at the back of my magical core. "I'm alright."

"Don't you dare leave us again, okay Harry?" Isis asked, a cute frown playing onto her face.

"I promise," I said, with a smile. I slowly sat up and noted the crowd of people behind Isis. There was Dumbledore to my left; Sirius, Peter, and Lily were to my far right; Jessica and the Romanov twins were in the doorway. "Why is everyone here?"

Because they care for you, a voice inside of my head whispered.

And it was true.

These people actually cared for me.

I suppose they even . . . loved me?

I smiled.

Friendship at last.

I had finally discovered it.

OoOoO

_Peter's POV_

I drank the potion, knowing that it would probably be painful. But I manned up, because I knew that I was a true Gryffindor. I would be loyal, to both my friends and to the Marauders. I withstood the pain, even though it was quite unbearable. After a while, I woke up on the soft, hot land. I opened my eyes, and everything seemed so large. Maybe I'd shrunk, or maybe the world had gotten larger. Well, I tried to move, but tripped over something.

I looked down and saw a dead snake. I cried out loud and leapt back. I noted that my hands—or rather, my claws—were bloodied. My mouth, too, reeked of blood. I had brown fur and was fairly small and stout, which seemed fitting to my personality. But this violence, it was unnatural—had _I_ been eating that dead snake?

I saw a few other creatures come up to me. They were my kin: I could sense it. They, too, had brown fur and resembled a weasel. I was ready to attack or run away, but then I realized that they'd come to feast on the dead snake. I watched, with curious eyes, as the brown-furred creatures ripped the snake into bits, and chewed and gobbled it down.

I shivered. What were these things? They weren't weasels, and they weren't rats. Was I an animal, just like them? I must have fainted, because next thing I knew, I was back inside the abandoned room. I realized that Sirius and James were still under the influences of the Animagus potion. I began to ponder on my Animagus form. What was I?

Suddenly, James began to thrash violently on the floor.

I quickly rushed over and checked to see if he was alright. I frowned, very afraid. What was going on? Why was James thrashing about? I looked at Sirius. Sirius wasn't having a fit. I don't think I had a fit either, when I was under the influences of the potion.

"No you won't!" James shouted.

I backed away. James was talking in his sleep or something. Just then, Sirius woke up. He rushed to kneel next to me. He turned to me and asked, "What happened?"

I shivered, not knowing how to reply. "J-james . . . he's been trembling and . . . he was shouting and . . . I'm scared Sirius. I-I don't know. What if something happened to . . . ?"

I really didn't know what to do. James had almost died in the Quidditch accident. I didn't want him . . . he was one of my only friends. I might have been selfish these past few years, but I've realized one thing: James always stood up for me and beside me. So, I would start doing the same. And if he and Sirius and Remus became the heroes and I didn't become a hero, I would make sure to be their sidekick.

"But he shouldn't be," said Sirius, suddenly. "It worked for us, didn't it? The potion worked fine, right Pete? So, James shouldn't be in trouble."

"I don't know, he—"

James began to thrash back and forth again. Sirius held him down, and whispered, "James. Please, James, wake up mate."

"No you won't, Voldemort! You hear me, you bastard?" James shouted. "Don't you dare get near her, you hear? You're nothing. . . ."

"James," Sirius repeated, shaking James by the shoulders. "James, wake up. It's only a dream!"

Suddenly, a pulse of powerful magic resounded from James's body. What the heck was going on?

"Sh-should I go get Dumbledore?" I asked.

"Yeah, Pete," Sirius said, "hurry up and get him."

I scrambled to my feet and exited the room. I licked my lips. I hoped everything was alright.

Just as I rounded the corridor, I bumped into Lily Evans.

"Where are you going in such a rush, Peter?" She asked me, after recovering from the fall. "Have you seen James?"

"F-fourth floor room, west side, last one, one with rubbish metal door," I said, "Sorry, gotta go. Im-im-important b-business."

I must have confused her, but she understood my directions. I had to get to Dumbledore, and I couldn't really stay to explain everything to her.

I ran down the moving staircase and onto the floor. I sprinted as fast as my feet could take me down the long hallway and eventually skidded to a halt right in front of Dumbledore's office. I realized, just then, that I didn't know the password. Well, it took a while, but I eventually gave up and realized how stupid I had been, not asking anyone for the password before coming here. I realized, just then, that I could have asked Lily for the password because she was a pre-prefect, and pre-prefects knew the password. I was stumped and sullen.

I started to rush back all the way to Sirius and tell him of the predicament when I bumped into this really pretty girl halfway down the hall. I don't know who she was, but she had been with James the other day. She's in Ravenclaw or something. She was flanked by those Romanov kids and the Isis girl, and they all seemed to be going to Dumbledore's office. After all, that was the only place this hallway led to.

"What are you doing here, may I ask?" she asked. She had pretty yellow hair and pretty brown eyes. I remembered her being one of the pre-prefects. The Isis girl looked worried, and this worried me too.

"Jessie, we have to hurry," Isis tugged at the pretty girl's arm.

"I-I was looking for the headmaster. H-he's in trouble a-and Sirius said to get the headmaster." I said, with minimal stutter. "I-I need to see the headmaster right now."

She frowned and led me back to the office. She mumbled something and the door opened. She led the way up the spiral staircase, walking quickly, and asked me, "Who's in trouble? Is it—"

"James is in t-trouble," I said. I rushed up the stairs, right behind her, and skidded to a stop when I saw the headmaster reclining in his chair, behind his desk, reviewing a book of some sort.

"Wait, are you certain James Potter is in trouble?" asked the girl in an urgent tone.

Wait, how did she know James was in trouble?

I nodded and turned to the headmaster and blurted out, "S-sir, it's urgent. You've g-got to come!"

The headmaster, noting my serious tone, closed his book, got up, and asked, "What's wrong, Mister Pettigrew?"

"J-james is in t-trouble, s-sir!" I said, really fast. When I speak fast, or when I'm really worried or scared, I stutter a lot more than usual. "Y-you've g-got to c-come and see."

"Lead the way," said the headmaster, his wand at ready. And so, I led the headmaster to the secret Marauder hideout. The whole time, I explained what had happened, and how I'd woken up after using the potion, and how I'd seen James thrashing on the floor. And then, I added the little details—the surge of magic and James's shouts. The Ravenclaw prefect, the Romanov twins, and the Isis girl followed us for some odd reason, but neither the headmaster nor I questioned their following us.

When I entered the room, Lily and Sirius were having a row of some sort. Then, the headmaster stepped forward and told them to step aside. I watched as the headmaster tried some spellwork.

"C'mon, my boy, wake up," I heard the headmaster whisper. "It's alright, Harry, wake up. It's not real."

James began to thrash again. I heard Lily, Isis, and that pretty Ravenclaw girl gasp. James's head began to twitch, and he began to bellow in pain. I felt really bad. I moved next to Sirius and nudged him, and said, "I'm sorry I couldn't get Dumbledore sooner."

"James, mate," Sirius mumbled, "please come back."

My hope ran low, though, when I realized that even _the headmaster _couldn't help James. James wouldn't wake. I was about to give up all hope: maybe James was in a coma and would have to be moved to St. Mungo's. That would really have been terrible. But then, the Isis girl rushed from behind me and sat down next to James.

The Isis girl set her hand on James's chest and began to run her hands in circles. She said, "Daddy Harry, wake up. You're safe."

After a few seconds, she shouted, "Daddy Harry!" among other things.

Well, whatever she did, it was a supernatural, because James eventually did wake up. A golden light left from the palm of the girl's hand, and it began to circle James's body before striking him through his forehead.

And then, as if it was some sort of miracle, James opened his eyes.

"You're awake!" Isis screamed. She pounced onto James.

"Yeah, pumpkin," said James. "I'm alright."

"Don't you dare leave us again, okay Harry?" said Isis.

"I promise," James said. He then looked to us and asked, "Why is everyone here?"

At once, the headmaster stepped forward and began to check him. "Mister Potter, you had us very worried for a second."

The noise level of the room rose, and everyone began to chatter at once. When Sirius asked him, the headmaster said that James was alright and that he was just a bit panicked. I saw Sirius and Lily leave the room, and I followed them. Isis, the Romanov twins, and the Ravenclaw stayed behind to observe James, for some odd reason.

Outside the room, the hallway was dim, and there wasn't enough moonlight filtering through the windows. So, it was pretty dark out in the hall. Lily and Sirius started walking towards the end of the corridor, where there was much torchlight, and I followed them. I didn't mean to tiptoe, but I did.

"Thank goodness James is alright," said Lily. "I was beginning to fear that . . ."

"Yeah," Sirius mumbled, "me too."

I guess they didn't notice that I'd followed them, or maybe they were ignoring me on purpose. It probably was not the latter, I hoped not. Or maybe, it was just me tiptoeing and them not noticing my tiptoeing.

"Look, sorry for acting like a jerk," Sirius said. "I really didn't know what I was saying."

"It's okay," Lily said. "Half of what you said _was_ true, I suppose."

"It's just that James really has suffered a lot," Sirius said. "And I was getting tired of . . . well, I sort of wanted to blame someone for all this."

"And I was the lucky candidate?" Lily asked.

Sirius laughed out loud and said, "Yeah, you were."

Lily frowned and asked, "How can you be laughing, Sirius, in such a serious condition? Your mate—"

Sirius narrowed his eyes and cut Lily off. He said, "Lily, hon, you have _no_ idea what runs through my mind. Absolutely _no_ idea of how much I care for James. James and I are brothers, not by blood, but by magic. No idea how intuitive I really am; you'd be surprised, actually. I don't care much for grades, Lils, because in life, grades don't matter. Friends and love: they matter.

I mean, Regulus gets high grades, but, I don't see Regulus succeeding in life anytime soon. He'll suffer later on in life. He might get rich or get lots of power, but what will he do with all that wealth and power? He'll have no real friends, anyone who he could trust—all his Slytherin friends would want to take his power from him. Friendship and love and relationships, those are important Lils. I honestly don't know why I'm even talking to you about all this. All this sentiment must be catching up on me."

Lily frowned, probably a bit shocked by what was coming out of Sirius's mouth. "I would have never imagined that you—Sirius Black, the guy who goes around snogging random girls in broom cupboards, and who has had at least ten girlfriends—would have such an interesting mind."

Sirius glared at Lily and said, "You don't know what goes in my mind, Lily. As a matter of fact, you never know what goes inside of any person's mind. You remember that pregnant Hufflepuff Muggle girl from last year? Well, she was raped the previous summer. Remember that fifth-year Ravenclaw who was suspended during our first year? Well, he was trying to stop bullying, and it got out of hand. You want to know why James and I act the way we do? We have family problems. Don't judge anyone, Lily hon, unless you know the truth. And, you don't know my mind. You can't read it. So, don't judge it."

Lily flinched under Sirius's gaze. She quickly changed the subject and said, "Do you cry often, Black?"

"I don't cry too often," Sirius said, his eyes becoming glazed for a moment. "I've only cried twice—once at James's mother's funeral, and once just now. That Sirius Black, the one in the room a few minutes ago—that Sirius Black was me, but it was a different me: it was me acting too sentimental. That's not the usual me. Or maybe, it's me having grown up."

"I figured," Lily mumbled. "You and James—I'd never guessed you'd be so different."

"Well, I'm quite suave normally—well, at least in public," Sirius said, with a half-grin, but his demeanor faltered and he sighed. "But, well, people are quite different in public and in private. Whatever you've thought about us—me, Peter, James, or Remus—it's probably all bogus and false. It's just that we've all got to keep up public images for ourselves, that's all, and we can't have everyone knowing about our intimate private lives. That's too personal, for anyone else to know. And, you have to realize that in times of trouble, we're not the same person you'd expect us to be. I've come near to seeing James die twice already. I can't afford to lose James."

"Since when did you get so insightful, Black?" Lily asked.

Sirius shrugged off Lily's comment. "I don't usually get mad easily, either," he said, "and I didn't really mean all that stuff back there, I'm sorry for all of it. It's just that: you've messed with James's love life too much. It was ironic, to me at least, how you were caring for him all of a sudden, when he was almost nearing death again. It was ironic, but it wasn't the least bit funny to me."

Lily shivered at the mention of death. "I probably shouldn't have acted the way I did these past few years," she said. "I realize that only now."

Sirius chuckled sadly and said, "We've all got to grow up at some point." He sighed and looked to the floor. "It's better to not grow up too fast, though. That way, you can enjoy boning as many witches as you can, before you realize how stupid it all is."

Lily frowned. "You're not the same Sirius Black I've known all these years, are you?"

Sirius shrugged and said, "I'm quite the same person, milady. You've just got to think things through from a different perspective, that's all.

Sirius let an impish twinkle play into his eyes.

"I mean, who would have ever thought that you were this caring, motherly figure, deep down inside?"

Lily scowled. "Very funny, Black."

"See!" Sirius exclaimed, jumping up and pointing a finger at her. "You're always so witty and acerbic, never caring, especially not for James."

I examined Sirius, and I saw him tweak his face so that he was wearing his public persona once again. He pretended to have recovered from seeing James's almost-fatal accident and was once again smiling. But, I could tell that his eyes weren't smiling. It was just his lips that were doing the smiling.

At some point, Lily noticed me. She pointed to me and asked, "Is that Peter?"

Sirius turned around and frowned right at me. "What 'choo doing in the shadows for, Pete? Come here, and let me introduce you to Lady Evans. The same Evans that broke Jamesie's poor heart oh so many times."

I stepped out and licked my lips. "H-hi."

I hadn't meant to hide in the shadows. I just don't like being seen.

It's frightening, the spotlight.

And, well, I do prefer the Shadows.

I feel safer there.

* * *

Author's Note:

Review + Share + Add to Story Alert + Add to Favorites = SUCCESS!

***I decided to lay out a timeline.** So, here it is:

-Autumn of 1996: Harry breaks up with Ginny. Or rather, she breaks up with him. Or rather, they break up with one another, and Ginny breaks his heart.

-Summer of 1997: Dumbledore dies. Harry starts looking for Hocruxes on his own (with help from few allies, like Luna, Neville, and Daphne).

-December of 1997: Harry dies. He makes his wish to go back in time. Harry is only 17 years old at the time of death.

-Summer of 1960: James Potter is born.

-Summer of 1965: James's mother and father have an argument, and James and his mother move into another house, away from the Potter Manor. His mother gives James a diary to write inside of. At first, he doesn't use it, but he gets used to it.

-Fall of 1968: James's mother is murdered. James has a big row with his father. He temporarily moves into the house of his magical guardian, Augusta Longbottom. However, he does move back and start living with his father again, although he isn't too happy.

-Fall of 1971: James Potter enters Hogwarts. Makes friends with Sirius, Remus, and Peter. He starts liking Lily.

-Spring of 1972 (?): James Potter tries his suicide attempt.

-Summer of 1972: Sirius and James go to Potter Manor. They have the "Big Argument" with Charles Potter, and they go to live in the Longbottom Manor for a while. However, James eventually makes up with his father later that summer.

-Fall of 1973: James Potter goes back to Hogwarts for his third year. He realizes that he's really, really, really falling for Lily Evans now, and might possibly be in love with her.

-Summer of 1973: Harry lands in the parallel universe, inside the body of James Potter. James Potter "dies." Harry meets and later adopts Isis.

-Fall of 1973: Harry starts planning for war against Voldemort, and he decides to destroy the Hocruxes. Starts the official Marauders.

-Summer of 1974: [TBA?]

P.S. A lot of stuff in the newspaper article written by Lily Evans in chapter 3 was exaggerated-it was purposely done. For example, James Potter hadn't been living with Augusta Longbottom; he only lived with her for a few days after the "Big Argument" with his dad.

***I am very bad at keeping an organized timeline of events. Point out any other chronological issues or logical issues you see. From now on, I will be using the above timeline to keep all major events.***


	13. Day Odd

Day Odd

_Harry's POV_

Dumbledore turned to me as I took a seat and said, "I hope you've made a successful recovery."

I smiled brightly and said, "Sir, I'm fine, and I've been fine since the very beginning."

Of course, that was a downright lie. I felt terrible, absolutely _terrible_—sick to the stomach. And I felt that way because of two reasons: first off, I felt bad for lying to his sorry face, and second, I really wasn't feeling well and hadn't been feeling well since last week. But, really, I couldn't have him worrying for me. We couldn't have that. Too many people had cared for me, and look what had happened to _them_.

They were dead. Gone. The whole lot of them. Ha, funny how life works.

"Madame Pomfrey thought otherwise," he said, not taking my feigned smile seriously. "She said your magical core had become quite unstable. However, since then, your core has recovered much."

I shrugged, trying to act noncommittal now. "I'm sure my magical core would have eventually returned to normal, even if I hadn't gone to Pomfrey in the first place. Don't worry about me, sir, _really_."

Dumbledore eyed me, and I'll tell you—he did _not _look convinced. "Harry, one's core does not simply go into disarray, especially not without the person feeling some form of hysteria, panic, or pain. Are you sure you're alr—"

"I'm alright, sir, honest," I interrupted him with a polite hand gesture.

"Okay, Harry," Dumbledore said, letting the topic go for a second. "But I must voice some other concerns. I don't think it was a wise move, on your part, to start exercising only one day out of the infirmary. You can train later—safety first."

"I'm fine, sir. I really needed a workout today. I really did. I just can't risk getting out of shape."

"Harry, you must recognize the dangers of your condition. Your magical core is unstable. You should really be resting right now. You should rest for the winter break, as a matter of fact. I have even . . ."

Dumbledore trailed off, but I'd later find out what he'd meant by that last part. As for me, I just dazed off into my own world. My mind focused about my magical core. It was unstable.

Unstable magical core.

Was that . . . dangerous?

I frowned.

I'm not sure whether or not I even knew what danger was any more. It was all so blurred for me.

My core was unstable. I rolled my eyes. That couldn't be too bad. I shrugged it off. If Dumbledore was worried that I wouldn't be able to handle some minor pain because of my unstable magical core, well, he was in for a bit of surprise.

I wasn't afraid of any pain. If I could survive two Imperius curses and a Cruciatus curse simultaneously, then I'm pretty sure I didn't have to worry too much about feeling pain. I knew hardcore pain. This pain, the one due to my having an unstable core or whatever—it was really an irritation from inside my gut, and it wasn't much of a deal. I could deal with it.

However, the discussion of my magical core being unstable did startle me, just a bit. I'd never dealt with that issue before, and frankly, it sounded a bit detrimental to my health. So, figuring that I had the time to do so, I asked Dumbledore the question that had been lingering inside my mind for a few hours now.

"Sir, I must ask: what happened to me?" I looked him in the eyes. "What _really_ happened? I mean, I don't mind my core being unstable—I'm quite unstable, _ha_. But honestly, what's wrong with my magical core?"

It couldn't be too bad. Not really. Not worse that losing your loved ones in just one night. Not that I had any loved ones in my old life . . . okay, Harry, stop contradicting yourself now. Ha, can you believe it? I'm talking to myself now. And I call Dumbledore barmy.

Dumbledore looked at me, studied me almost, and said, "I believe that my previous theory of your soul and James Potter's soul merging together may have been quite accurate."

I frowned, my smile incomplete and cracked in many places. "Our souls merged when I landed here?" What the heck—I doubted that, so I asked, "Are you sure about that, sir? How does that make any sense?"

"With the help of Ma'am Pomfrey, I did a few checks on your core, and we found some interesting results. It seems that there are two souls inside your body, and they reside side-by-side, inside this host body. The magical core you posses right now is a combination of both your core and James Potter's core. They are strongly bounded together, but are very much separate entities."

I was stumped. "I'm not myself right now, is that what you're saying? I'm a mix of James Potter and Harry Potter? Am I a mere parasite or something? Neither human nor true wizard?"

Was I a freak again?

Oh come on, not again!

"You are Harry Potter, yes," Dumbledore said, "but, deep down inside of you exists the dormant soul of James Potter. And, although not fully active, both the core and magical essence of James Potter reside inside of you."

"James Potter isn't dead, then?" I asked. I shook my head in bemusement and mumbled something incoherent. I don't recall, though, what it was I said. I must have said something like, "Magic is bloody brilliant."

Dumbledore sighed and said, "Some mysteries are best left unraveled. But, I assume the presence of James Potter inside of your body would not cause you harm."

"What do you mean, you _assume_?" I asked, with a tight frown. I don't like it when people assume, although I'm sometimes guilty of reaching specious conclusions myself.

"This is a mystery, even to me, Harry."

A mystery to Dumbledore? Now that was something that . . . I hadn't quite expected.

I stared at Dumbledore, wondering if he was hiding something else from me. Maybe, a secret. Maybe there was another prophecy and he was trying to conceal something and . . . _but, n_o. I stared into his twinkling sad blue eyes. No, he wasn't lying; I could tell. He was telling me the truth, and all of it, too. I could tell.

"Perhaps you would like to know the entirety of the events that occurred last week," he said, noting my eerie silence. "Perhaps, they may lead you to answers."

Perhaps.

I nodded and said, "That would be very helpful. I was unconscious for most of the part."

"Well," he said, "from the multiple sources, I have been able to piece together the events quite nicely. It seems that after you three used the Animagus potion, you and Misters Black and Pettigrew fell into a potion-induced sleep. Mister Pettigrew was the first to wake, and Mister Black the second. However, they noted that you did not wake for quite some time; then, they witnessed your thrashing about on the floor and immediately panicked."

"Yeah," I said. "That must have been when I landed in that abyss again. With Voldemort and the other man."

"The other man, Harry?" Dumbledore frowned. "You must tell me of your side of events again, Harry. It will help piece together this new puzzle."

"But you should finish your side first," I replied, urging him to continue.

"Very well," Dumbledore said, with a nod. "Misters Pettigrew and Black felt a surge of magic sweep across the room just as you began to yell things. Mister Pettigrew went to fetch my assistance and bumped into Miss Evans, who had been wondering where you were.

"She entered the room and saw you thrashing about. She and Mister Black tended to you for a while, and discussed some issues. However, Mister Black insists that they didn't just have a friendly discussion—they had a row, over you."

"A row over me?" I asked, with a doubtful snort. "What were they arguing about?"

"Well, it seems Mister Black was only defending his friend, and he was very doubtful of Miss Evans sudden affection for you. He believed that she was, as I shall put in his exact words, playing with your feelings."

I frowned and mumbled, "Lily isn't a bad person, I suppose not."

"In the meantime, little Isis, Mark, and Alex were playing the courtyard when Isis felt something—a sign that you were in trouble. Alex and Mark quickly went to look for a prefect, and they found Miss Lancaster just rounding the first floor main corridor. She asked what happened, and Isis explained that you were in trouble. They headed to my office the same time Mister Pettigrew was headed there.

"Mister Pettigrew, with help from Miss Lancaster, entered my office and alerted me of the predicament you were in. We rushed to the room as quickly as we could. When I entered, I immediately tested some medical spells and was relieved that you were in no imminent danger. However, I could not shake you from your sleep. Fortunately, Isis stepped forward and did something to bring you back to reality."

"My guardian angel," I whispered softly, finally realizing some of the vital parts of the prophecy as they came together. So, it was true then. Voldemort was right—she was part of this stupid war. Isis was involved in my war, despite how hard I had tried to keep her out of it. "Damn prophecy."

"Pardon?" Dumbledore knit his brows quite tightly, almost as tightly as mine.

"The prophecy, sir, you've heard it, yes?" I asked. I was pretty sure I'd told him about it. Or, maybe Flamel told him?

My jaw clenched at the thought of Flamel.

Flamel. Brilliant man, that he was, but he was just too cryptic. He wasn't straightforward at all. He hadn't bothered to contact me since our encounter at the ministry. I had really been counting on him for some help. All he gave me was the prophecy. And, I didn't even fully understand it yet. He could have at least helped me decipher it like a gentleman, no?

Well, it seemed that Flamel had turned out to be quite the old man, hadn't he? I sighed. But, I couldn't keep grudges for long, I've told you that, yes? I can't hate anyone, despite the numerous people that have hated me in my life. I have a kind heart, and the adults are always using me to achieve ends of peace. But, I can't hate anyone, really. I just can't. I don't have it in me. Sure, I can have tantrums and act immaturely at times, but I can't stay angry at anyone for too long. I mean, I often wonder to myself: did I truly hate Ginerva Weasley, or did I just dislike her for her childish decisions, or do I hate myself now for having started the relationship that obviously was lust-driven and . . . never mind _that_. Maybe, some other time, I will tell you of Ginerva's romantic conquests over the great Harry Potter. Oh how I hate beaches.

"Yes, yes, the prophecy." Dumbledore said, bobbing his head. I turned my attention over to the headmaster again. "Ah, you believe Isis to be the guardian angel, is that it?"

I nodded. "Yes sir. In fact, so does Voldemort. It makes sense too, now that I see how Isis miraculously entered my life, and I hers. Well, anyway, you see, after I fell into the abyss—which happened right after having I saw my Animagus form—I landed in this dark room. Voldemort was there, and so was his ally, Vladimir. And, from what I recall seeing and hearing, I think that the other man was a Time Magus."

"I don't recall a Vladimir," Dumbledore mumbled. "And, he is a Time Mage, you say? Why is that?"

"Well, the two were discussing things. Voldemort wanted to know who the Chosen One and the Guardian Angel were, and Vladimir apparently knew. They started planning how to kill both, but Vladimir seemed impartial to it all. It came up, somewhere in the conversation, that he was a Time Mage, and he even demonstrated his abilities at the end when he appeared to shimmer out of view and appear right behind Voldemort."

"How good an ally did he seem to be?" Dumbledore asked. He was probably worrying at the consequences of the Dark Lord having such a powerful aide.

"Well, the Vladimir person said that he didn't like Voldemort's methods of killing innocents, but was only working with him because he wanted revenge." I paused there for a second. "He wanted to kill you, sir, to avenge something that he believed you were the cause of."

Dumbledore frowned. "I don't recall ever having anything to do with a Vladimir. And a Time Magus, allying with a forthcoming Dark Lord, you say? That is very dangerous, for the Light side. Merlin, help us if a Magus pairs with the opposing side."

"Yeah," I said, lamely. Merlin, help us all. "But he didn't really seem like he wanted to help Voldemort. He was just bent at killing you. I'm not sure why, though, sir. His true intentions were befuddling. He wanted to get revenge, and that's it. But, I feel there's more to it."

Dumbledore went silent, probably thinking. "Did you say what Tom's plans were?"

"Well, at first, Voldemort wanted to infiltrate Hogwarts. But, the Vlad man objected and suggested that Voldemort continue to build up his army, or henchmen, rather, since his army seems pretty measly at the moment. So, now, Voldemort is planning on recruiting more Hogwarts students, the Creatures, and Dementors."

"This is getting quite serious," Dumbledore mumbled to himself, his face hardening for the first time since the start of the conversation. "I should get right to recruiting members."

"Recruiting for the Order of the Phoenix, sir?" I asked, with a polite grin. He hadn't started recruiting yet? Why hadn't he already started recruiting members? Why was he so late? Surely, Dumbledore should have realized the seriousness of it all. I guess, the war had yet to begin, and people had been taking everything too lightly. But, really, none of it was a joke. It wasn't.

I don't usually descend into deep thought; when I do, it's important. So when I gulped and descended deep into thought, I knew that I was dealing with serious stuff:

This was Voldemort's first rise to power. I narrowed my eyes as the images of the Dark Lord killing innocents flashed into my mind. I clenched my fist. This would be Voldemort's _first, last, _and_ only_ ascension to power; that is, _if _he even got to power, considering how I was now here to kick his sorry arse. Well, I hoped I kicked his sorry arse, and nothing else. And hopefully, I didn't get my arse whipped by him. That would be bad, if he kicked my arse instead of the other way around.

"How do you know of the Order, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, with a curious twinkle in his eyes. "I have yet to finalize the idea of an Order."

"We had an Order of Phoenix, too, sir," I said with a grim smile, but my demeanor quickly diminished—my past got to me real quick. "But it didn't help during the Second War, though, when Voldemort came back for round two. I was alone then. Most of the people of the Order, well, they were dead then, sir, save for the few new Hufflepuff and Gryffindor inductees whom Neville and Luna had asked to join. But even then, there . . ."

I paused and closed my eyes.

_Harry, it's all in the past_, I told myself.

The past is . . . well, it's the past, nothing more.

Yeah, nothing to mourn over. I think.

I tried to control the emotion in my words, and I'm pretty good at masking my face of real emotion, but I guess I still have some work to do there when it comes to really emotional memories.

Dumbledore penetrated directly through my mask and, in an assuring tone, he said, "Harry, you shouldn't worry much of the war. It isn't only your war. It is our war."

I laughed at that, and my laughing startled poor Dumbledore. But honestly, he had it coming. I mean, Dumbledore's quite the comedian for his age, really.

I said, with a chuckle, "Sir, you're telling the _Super Soldier_ that it's not his war? No offense, but it _is _my war. I've got to beat that stupid Dark Lord—stop him before this war gets too far. I don't want the war to prolong for as long as it did last time. In fact, he won last time. But this time, sir, I'm going to train, just as hard, if not harder, and surprise him. I'll end the war before it even starts, sir. Think about that, sir. Isn't that brilliant? Imagine all the lives that will be spared. Imagine how much less humanity will have to suffer."

I smiled brilliantly, imagining my triumphant victory over Dark Lord You-Who. Yes, innocents would be saved. Lots of them. Lots of Muggle and half-breed children like Teddy would survive. Lots of misunderstood individuals like Daphne would live to tell the tale of Voldemort's defeat by my hands. Voldemort would die. And no other person should have to carry the burden of having to eliminate his presence from this beautiful, yet very fucked-up, world.

When I looked back at Dumbledore, I knew I was in some waist-deep in boiling water.

Dumbledore gave me a disapproving, affectionate pointed glare. I guess, he didn't think it was a laughing matter. He said, "Imagine how much _you_ will have to suffer, Harry." He paused and let me dissolve in my mind the consequences of fighting Voldemort alone. I simply shrugged them off. "I don't wish to put this type of burden onto you, Harry, for you must learn to work together and let us help. We are a team."

"Don't worry about me, sir," I smiled, "I'll be fine. Nothing can break me."

Honestly, I was already broken. You can't break something that's already broken, now can you? And did he honestly think I was still some sort of child? Of course I wasn't a child! I _could_, and I _would_, handle Voldemort.

"You're not ready for war, yet, Harry," Dumbledore said. "You can't do all this yourself. You are much too young. You shouldn't even have to suffer having to participate in war much less be a war leader."

"I'm not your average teenager, sir," I said, "I prepare for the worst. I always have, and I'm preparing for the war already. I will lead us to victory, not war. And, sir, as a matter of fact, I'm not even a teenager, mind you. I'm seventeen, maybe eighteen now. I don't mind the responsibility of war, nor its burdens. I've been in this kind of situation in my own universe before, remember sir? I'm the Boy-Who-Lived, sir. I was meant to defy the laws of physics and magic since the day of my birth. I was brought up learning how to defeat dark lords. Fighting is my innate ability, sir, as it runs in the veins of my soul."

Dumbledore sighed and said, "I know I cannot change your mind, Harry, but you must learn to care for yourself. We will try to be at your side, always, but you must learn to care for yourself. Please, for our sake, for your sake, please Harry. Promise me this, okay Harry?"

"I promise," I said with a polite smile. But I was crossing my fingers while I said that. I wanted to mollify Dumbledore, but in reality, I knew I couldn't ever care for myself. I couldn't count on it. I mean, I care for myself, but I had to sort out my priorities first. I've got to save the world, damn it! I can't start caring for myself.

I know, for sure, I won't break. Nobody can break me, not now. I just know it, it's my seventh instinct. I won't break, I won't die. I survive through almost every dangerous situation I get tossed into. Fate likes to toy with me. I'm used to it now, really, so I don't mind, really.

"Do you plan to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays, Harry?" Dumbledore said, changing the subject quite abruptly.

Unfortunately for him, my mind was very focused on war for the time being.

I nodded and said, "I plan to utilize the time I have during the break to start my hunt for hocruxes. I was also planning on utilizing my resources to train myself—you know, start practicing my arsenal of spells again. I have to get back in shape, both magically and physically. I mean, James was in shape, but not the type of shape I prefer. I also have to learn to transform into my Animagus form."

Dumbledore frowned at that and shook his head, and said, "You mustn't do that, Harry."

I frowned, mad all of a sudden, and said, "Well, why the hell not? Why can't I train? I need to get ready, sir, you know that."

"Yes, Harry, you must train," Dumbledore said, "But, you mustn't try to transform into a phoenix—not just yet—for it is too risky. You might suffer again and go back into this abyss of yours, perhaps even into a coma this time."

"So, I can't try again? I can't become an Animagus?" I asked. I was a bit worried, I think, or maybe just a bit irritated. I didn't normally like listening to others much. And it wasn't that I was arrogant or snotty or rude or anything. Mind you, I'm quite a nice person—I think, or at least that's what I've been told by Luna. But, well, it's just that when people tell me _not_ to do something, I somehow always wind up doing just that thing, and more often than not, it's not my fault. But sometimes, it is my fault.

But besides that, I couldn't just give up on becoming an Animagus just because of some petty seizure I'd had the last time I'd tried to get in contact with my Animagus form. I didn't want to give up, not after getting so close to experiencing what it's like to be an Animagus. And, also, transforming into an Animagus brings along a long list of utility and endless possibility in combat.

"You will become an Animagus, I assure you that," Dumbledore replied, "but only under my supervision, Harry. I understand the importance of it all, and frankly, I do not wish to deprive you of your abilities. However, we cannot have you in such a condition again. I do not wish to see you in this hospital wing too often, understood Harry? Your magical core, as I have told you, is still vulnerable. Let it heal completely—and then, you can train."

I bit my lip in thought, but eventually nodded, because he was right, of course. But, well, that really sucked, now did it not? I had to wait?

_Time, Mr. Potter, isn't it a great thing?_

_Not really, sir._

_Well, you should learn to appreciate it more, Harry._

Dumbledore had once told me to learn to be more patient, in my old life. But I didn't like waiting.

Not much.

Dumbledore then proceeded to explain some stuff to me. He told me that I couldn't try transforming into my Phoenix form by myself, not after what had happened. He said he wanted to supervise the process from now on and see that I didn't have that freak seizure again. Of course, this was a bit disheartening. He wanted to _administer_ my training. I didn't like that.

Not much at all.

I like to do things on my own—as I've said before, I'm a one-man army—and I quite like being alone. Call me antisocial, call me a freak—I don't care. I work independently, and I prefer working alone, and I do things as efficiently as possible. When I'm with someone else, I feel pressured in ways: it's more time-consuming that way. I don't know; maybe it's just that I've never truly been supervised by Dumbledore before. In my world, he'd let me do things on my own really, and he trusted me a lot, and he understood my insecurities and the time constraints. He cared for me then, yes he did, but he let me do things on my own a lot. Well, this Dumbledore cares for me too, but he . . . I don't know. He seems too overprotective of me. I don't like that, not one bit, and the old Dumbledore knew that, and he'd let me tend my own wounds; he'd let me fix my own problems. Well, at least, he'd started doing that by the end of sixth year. But anyway, I don't like . . . actually, you know what? I don't even know what I don't like anymore. Fuck.

My mind is so messed up. I feel sorry for whoever tries to attack it.

Poor Voldemort. Ha, calm down Harry. He's the bad guy. Don't sympathize with him.

I snapped out of my thoughts and asked, "What about Sirius and Peter and their Animagus transformations?"

"Well, I've instructed them to try transforming into their forms over the holiday break, and since Sirius will be at Hogwarts with you, he will be transforming with you, under my supervision as well."

"That reminds me," I said. "What are their forms again?"

Dumbledore rubbed his chin and said, "The way Mister Black described it to me, I assume his form to be a black dog. As for Mister Pettigrew, I am uncertain, but I believe him to be a mongoose."

Peter's form was a mongoose? Well, that certainly was different from what I'd expected. I guess, he's not so much a rat as before. But, why a mongoose? What's so special about mongooses anyway? They're carnivorous animals, and they . . . oh wow . . . they resembled weasels.

I gritted my teeth, but only slightly. Weasels. Weasels, Weasley, Weaslet. Weasels. I weasel, you weasel, he, she, it weasels. No, no, I don't weasel. She weasels. Hopefully, you don't weasel much.

I shook my head. No, I couldn't let my emotions cloud my logic. Peter wasn't a bad person, was he? No, he was a friend, right. Well, I bloody darn hoped he was. He _had_ made an oath. I bobbed my head, feeling loads better. Yeah, he'd made that oath. He wouldn't—he couldn't betray me or the rest of the gang. We were all one big circle now. He'd support me the whole way through, unless, of course, he wanted to betray us and serve Volde-nonose-mort as a Squib for the rest of his life.

"Harry?" the headmaster asked, his eyes radiating compassion. "Are you alright? You have been zoning out for much of the conversation."

I ignored the whole issue of Peter Pettigrew and let on a laugh. "Sir," I said, "I zone out a lot. Don't worry about that, and, certainly don't worry about me either. I'm fine."

"We worry for you, Harry," Dumbledore said.

I rolled my eyes, but only slightly. What was he going on about? Did he believe me to be some sentimental kid who didn't care for himself? I mean, that description doesn't fit me, does it? I'm no child; well, I think . . . I hope not. What am I saying! Of course I'm no child. I'm as mature as Merlin's scrotty balls!

"I don't doubt you, sir," I said, an eerie smile itching onto my face. I doubt Dumbledore recognized it. I doubt anyone would have recognized this peculiar smile. "But, let's discuss business. Let's talk saving the world, yes sir? Not my life. My life—it's not important. The world, on the other hand, is important."

I was sure that they_ cared_ for me, whatever that meant. I mean, they'd shown their affection last week, they really had. They'd stood by me all last week, all of them—Jessica, the twins, Isis, Sirius, Peter, Lily, Dumbledore. I don't doubt their feelings of affection and what not, I really don't.

But, the thing is that I hate when people _care_ for me that much; it's really unnecessary. It's best, for them, if they didn't care for me. Those who care for me always die first. That's a fact: Daphne and Teddy and Dumbledore and Sirius, they all died, 'cause of me. _All my ruddy fault_. And, anyway, my life isn't that important. It's really not. People should really stop worrying about me. I'll do my job, I swear, I'll save the world, eventually.

I mean, if that's what Dumbledore meant, if that's what he's worried about when he meant—we worry for you—that's totally fine: I'll save the world, old man, I promise, no need to worry about me. I've got my priorities set out quite nicely. I've got a To-do List, and eliminating Voldemort is on the very top of it.

But, if he meant that he worries for me because he truly cares for my feelings, he really shouldn't have said that. My feelings don't matter. I'm not important, I'm really not, and my feelings don't matter much either. I'm just a human being, just like everyone else. I'm normal. Well, I try to be . . . normal . . . even though I'm evidently not normal.

"Harry, will you attend the ball tomorrow evening?" He was probably trying to distract my mind from saving the world, since his last attempt to change the subject had been quite unsuccessful. "I'm sure you shall enjoy yourself. Several young ladies will be present there."

I smiled but shook my head and said, "I don't intend on going, and I probably won't go, unless Isis forces me to go or something. I had plans for this evening, and these plans revolve around finding a certain diadem on the seventh floor, not dancing with pretty girls on the dance floor."

Dumbledore was quite determined, though, and said, "I've heard that Miss Watson of Ravenclaw has taken a liking for you; she's the same one you tutored in Defense against the Dark Arts class only last month. Perhaps you should—"

"No, sir," I said with a firm tone. My eyes drooped to the ground. I knew what he was implying. "I appreciate it, sir. It's nice of you to try and set me up with some pretty young woman, but I'd rather you not. I haven't the best of experience with relationships."

The old man paused for a brief moment before saying, "But, Harry, you must—"

"No, sir," I repeated, softly. "Right now, I have only but two obligations: protect those closest to me and defeat Voldemort."

And be normal.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, looking at me with that affectionate gaze again, "you are human, just like your peers. You—"

I snorted and looked at him. "That's quite ironic, sir, my being human. I could have sworn that I've already done things that no _normal _human should have been able to accomplish. If you didn't already know, _sir_, I've died—not once, but twice. I've traveled through space-time, sir. I've survived through all three Unforgiveable curses, sir, and remained a sane individual. I'm anything like a normal human, sir, you know that. I am . . . well I'm a . . ."

Freak.

Yep, I was a freak. Whoop-a-dee-do!

Of course, I didn't get to say that part. Surely, Dumbledore would have started worrying about me and coddling me once more.

I took a gulp and promptly got up from my chair, failing to meet the headmaster's gaze. "I must get going, sir. I really should. I've got kind of a tight schedule today."

Tight schedule, my arse. I'm the world's worst liar.

"Please do meet up for our Animagus training, tomorrow, yes?" he said. "And do inform Mister Black."

I nodded and walked to the exit. I stopped and mumbled, "I'm sorry sir. I don't usually lose my temper."

I really don't like losing my cool. It's quite improper.

And I try my best to keep my feelings in check. Bottling my emotions for later release at nights by the lake with my Slytherin guitar and my Songs. Eh, that's kind of off-topic, now isn't it? Well, let's get back on topic!

He must have heard me, because I heard him hum in agreement, but he didn't reply directly back. After that moment of awkward silence, I stepped out of the office. Just as I closed the door behind me, I heard Dumbledore say, "Merry Christmas, Harry. Please do check through your presents thoroughly."

I frowned but continued to the Great Hall to have breakfast.

It would be much later that I'd figure out what he'd meant by that—the "check your presents" part. And when I say much later, I mean: much, much, _much_ later. Okay, not that later, but sort of later. Okay: breakfast later.

Only after having breakfast and sparking friendly treatise with my friends did I actually get the sense of going back to the common room to actually open and examine thoroughly all of my presents like the rest of my peers. I had other things on my mind before that—the prophecy, mostly.

Oh, and speaking of breakfast.

OoOoO

"Are you really not going to the ball tomorrow, Harry?" Isis asked.

Harry suppressed the urge to say no, for the sake of the little pumpkin, and finally said, "Okay, I'll go, but only if you insist on going."

"Of course I insist," Isis said as she clapped her small hands together. "Now, we can all go as a big family! Isn't this great, Mark?"

Mark, who was sitting to Harry's right, gave a groan of disapproval. "I'd rather sleep in tomorrow than go to that stupid ball. Stupid ball . . . stupid girls. Bugger me."

"Oh, stop being a bad sport," Alex chastised her brother from across the table. "You just don't want to go because you think those girls are annoying. I agree, but that's no good reason to make the rest of us miss out."

"It's not just that they're annoying—you don't understand! They treat me like I'm a toddler. I'm not the school's teddy bear!" Mark huffed. "Can you imagine? It's terrible—those girls want to dress me up and take me to the ball like I'm some sort of plaything. It's preposterous! Hey, can you lot stop smiling? This is a _serious _matter."

Everyone on the table chuckled at this, and this only aggravated Mark's growing discontent. Mark eventually grumbled something and skidded himself away to the other side of the table, far away from the now group of four.

"He's really pissy sometimes," Alex said, rolling her eyes. "I'll sort him out in just a minute." She walked to other side of the Ravenclaw table to where the boy was now sitting, leaving the three individuals alone.

"Does this happen often, Isis?" Harry asked curiously.

Isis, Alex, and Mark had become an unbreakable trio of sorts, and they had formulated a very strong bond of trust that even Harry didn't understand much.

"Yep," Isis said. "But Alex always helps Mark feel better, whenever he's in a bad mood."

"And who cheers you up when you're in a bad mood?" Harry asked.

Isis beamed and clung herself to Jessica's left arm. "Why, Jessie does. She's the bestest!"

Harry tried to appear hurt and said, "And what about me, pumpkin? Don't I cheer you up too?"

"Oh, you're nice Harry," Isis said with an almost impish smile, "but Jessie is always there to help me do my ponytails and read me those stories about unicorns and help me bake cookies with the kitchen house elves and play with Alex, Mark, and I when we play hide-and-seek and. . . ."

Harry looked to Jessica with a sort of profound frown. "Doesn't she bother you? I do hope she's not too much a burden, especially with all your schoolwork."

Jessica bore her eyes into Harry's and simply smiled. "She's a sweet girl."

_Sweet girl_, Harry wondered, almost frowning a smile as he kept in contact with Jessica's eyes for longer than necessary.

Now, who exactly did he have in mind when he said that?

Who was this . . . _sweet girl_?

OoOoO

_Harry's POV_

After having a healthy breakfast with Isis and Jessica on the Ravenclaw table (Sirius must have overslept), and after berating Isis and Jessica to incorporate healthy foods into their breakfast, I eventually remembered that I had to check on my Christmas presents. You see, Jessica thanked me for having given her that silk shawl that I'd given her for Christmas. It was then that I realized that I still had to look through my presents. Something—let's say that it was my gut—told me that looking through my presents at that present moment would be a rewarding activity to partake in.

So, I rushed out of the Great Hall after finishing breakfast and made my way to the Gryffindor common room. I hadn't looked through my Christmas presents. I really hadn't. That might be a shocker, but honestly, I wasn't in the Christmas spirit the whole time. I'd looked through the presents just before exiting the common room in the morning, but I hadn't gotten a chance to examine the presents too closely. I know I'd gotten a lot of them, certainly more presents than I had expected. I'd approximated there to be at least twenty presents, and I was sure that there were more than just that many. But, I hadn't bothered to open any of them or look at who sent me what.

You see, I'd woken up that day at six o'clock in the morning and gotten dressed in warm layers. Madame Pomfrey had instructed me to bed rest for at least three more days, but I ignored her warning and decided to get back in shape. That is, I decided to start doing morning exercises again. The stupid potion accident had gotten me quite out of shape, and I couldn't afford having myself out of shape, not in times of upcoming war.

After doing a warm-up by running up and down the corridor right outside the Great Hall, I went straight outside to the Black Lake to do the rest of my routinely exercises. The Black Lake had become like my official work-out area.

I don't know if I already mentioned this, but the Lake is also where I used to sing my Songs, and still do at times. I often go to the lake at nights to strum a few melodies on the Guitar of Slytherin (My favorite is "Rain, rain, go away."), but that's kind of a different story for a different time.

Well, it took a while, about an hour or so to do everything, but I eventually finished my exercises—that included doing a few endurance runs around the Lake, performing several rigorous wand-casting and running drills, and dong a lot of sit-ups and push-ups. After finishing my last set of pushups, I'd raced to the seventh floor to take a shower. I had only just dressed into neat clothing and stepped out of the bathroom when I bumped into Dumbledore. He led me to his office after that, and that was how we ended up talking for an hour in his small office. After that, I had breakfast and . . . well, you know what happened next. I went to the common room to check on my presents.

I entered the common room and greeted the few Gryffindors that were staying at Hogwarts for the Winter Break. I saw Catherine—she's one of Lily's friends and she's quite nice, much like Lily—and she asked if I'd seen Sirius. I shook my head but promised to let him know that she was looking for him. As she turned to go, I wished her happy holidays, to which she blushed out a thank-you.

I didn't really care if she blushed, though. I just rushed to the Christmas tree and starting scouring through the hundred or so presents. I located my presents and set them aside. I had twenty-five in total. Oh boy, that was quite a lot. In my old universe, I'd only gotten maybe . . . seven. Maybe more. I never bothered to check before.

Well, anyway, there were a lot of people who'd sent me presents. Sirius got me a Quidditch kit; Remus got me some book on manipulating charms—this would certainly be useful in the upcoming pranks; Peter got me a nice cheating quill, which I doubted I would need anyway; Isis got me a picture frame with a picture of us two sitting together during lunchtime and laughing—cute; the Romanov twins chipped in together to get me a neat fedora hat that could disillusion its wearer; Jessica—I couldn't believe she got me something—got me a really swell wristwatch; Lily—wow, she actually got me something too—got me chocolates or something.

I quickly looked at the rest of my presents and noted some of the other names. Natalie Watson—you see, she's this girl I'd tutored, and she recently developed a crush on me. She'd sent me a box full of odd-scented chocolates. I'd been trying to send her polite signals of rejection, but she seemed quite stubborn. I smiled as I came across a small gift from Diggory—he was one of the Hufflepuff kids I'd made recently become friends with. I continued looking through my presents, and noted that my Dad had sent me an advanced book on Auror-level battle magic, a book on politics, and a large sum of money. I smiled and made a note to thank Charles. Even though he was quite busy, he did care for his son.

Finally, I came upon two very unlikely presents. One of them was from the Dumbledore, and the other from an anonymous sender.

I cautiously handled the present that the anonymous person had sent me. I frowned and slowly unraveled the red gift wrapping. From inside, I found Helga Hufflepuff's cup. I almost dropped it in surprise. Was this the very same cup I was looking for—the Hocrux? I looked at the letter that came with it. It read:

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I would like to wish you a Merry Christmas and do hope you are doing well in your studies. My wife has been quite stern with me lately. She believes that I abandoned you back at the ministry. Please do excuse my behavior, for I was acting quite peculiarly for my own liking. I was merely acting on very cautious terms. You see, the D.O.M. isn't the safest of places to hold confidential conversations, at least not anymore. I believe there to be somebody who might have tried to infiltrate our conversation that summer day and stolen some valuable information to send to the Riddlemaster. I felt a presence as soon as I finished telling you the divination that day, and I had to cover up the truth by lying and telling you that we hadn't deciphered the divination. I also had to make a quick getaway for reasons you should be able to figure out on your own._

_I don't know exactly who it is that has been stealing my private documents lately, but I'm sure there are bound to be other spies in our ranks. I'm also sure that the same person who has been shuffling through my work is the same one who interrupted our conversation at the D.O.M. Therefore, I could not risk deciphering the divination ball in front of you then. And I can't risk telling you the entirety of the divination ball on paper for it may get intercepted. Please do understand the terminology I'm using; I cannot write out everything for fear of interception or fear of taboo tracking. However, this letter should not get intercepted, for I am sending it using one of the safest methods money and time can buy. I've put hours of thought and magic into devising this mechanism. Think of this as Apparating from one place to another to another to another to the final destination. If a person tries to follow you, he'll lose track at one of the checkpoints._

_Now, my manor is safe, if you wish to come there and ask me questions, as is Dumbledore's office. However, whoever this person is, he's very clever. I usually guard my documents with utmost security runes and ancient spells; yet, this person has managed to break through all my precautions. Thus, I cannot risk anything. However, even if this letter does get intercepted, know this: only you can understand what I am about to tell you._

_This cup is part one of six. The seventh does not exist. I think the headmaster is after another part, so that will be one less to worry about. I advise you to look for the one in Hogwarts as soon as possible. Do not destroy the parts until you have all of them, after which you should challenge the Riddlemaster. Do not challenge the Riddlemaster until you have mastered your battle magicks and acquired the Hallows and transformed into your form. Do not challenge him until you have gathered your own forces: for this, you must learn to accept friendship and love. I've seen your past, and I can say that I am truly sorry that you have seen the worst of humankind. But, be assured that there is a better side to all humans. You have just been unfortunate enough to experience the bad side of humankind._

_As for the divination, the girl is the guardian. Trust her, and trust yourself. Don't lose yourself, not even when the inner you tries to make contact: embrace the other part of you. You are you, but there is another you inside of you. Perhaps, this will make more sense once it actually happens._

_Finally, remember our conversation of magical entities. Well, they help to not only purify the soul but also help it develop and mature. The Black Lake encompasses a very strong magical entity. Continue using it and you shall not be disappointed in the results of your daily morning routine._

_You have probably guessed who I am, but I must sign off as anonymous. If you have any concerns, do not contact me directly, but rather contact Dumbledore. This person, whoever it is, seems bent over only monitoring my every action. Hopefully, he will not interfere with your affairs with Dumbledore as long as I'm not there. However, beware of the spies at school._

_Sincerely,_

_Anonymous_

_P.S. Burn this letter once you have read its contents in entirety._

I don't recall for how long I remained dumbfounded after reading that letter, but let me tell you this: it was a pretty long time. My legs eventually got tired and I slowly sat down and digested the entirety of the letter. One word, just one, reverberated through my head as I stared at the letter: Flamel.

Supposedly, there was a spy who had been watching Flamel's every action for a while, and the spy had tapped into our conversation right after I'd been told the prophecy that summer day when Isis and I went to the ministry. So, Flamel had felt another's presence at the Department of Mysteries that day, and he had tried to get away from me as soon as possible to avoid the spy from figuring out that I was involved in the prophecy at all. So, though it had looked to me as if Flamel was being conspicuous about something, he really wasn't. In reality, Flamel hadn't been trying to pull off any trick. I nodded my head. In reality, he'd just tried to save my arse. Well, if this story was valid, then, I guess, Flamel wasn't too shabby an old man, now was he? That made sense. Sort of. Well, I certainly thought that, so I bought it.

I frowned. So basically, there was a spy who was stalking Flamel for information about the prophecy. He must have been one of Voldemort's henchmen. But, who could it be? Well, I decided to look into that later on.

I looked at Dumbledore's gift next and wondered what it could possibly be. I carefully opened the wrapping and set it on the floor to examine. This gift was quite a shocker as well. Who would have ever guessed?

It was the ring.

_Dear Harry,_

_I figured out the location of this Hocrux and decided to take the effort to retrieve it for you. Though I have made sure to remove all curses from it, do not try to put the ring on your finger. Hopefully, with this in your possession, you can relax your nerves for the rest of the month and enjoy your Christmas break._

_Merry Christmas,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

I felt myself smile as I gently picked the ring up from inside its container. I made sure not to put it on my finger, for the ring would have employed a curse on me had I put it on my finger. I set the ring aside, eyeing the small Resurrection Stone embedded on the top of the ring. I rushed to my room, one Hocrux in either hand, and retrieved from my trunk a small crate. I stored the two Hocruxes into the crate, making sure to lock it very securely, and went back downstairs. I tucked the small trunk into my satchel and thought of my next route of action.

I now had two of Voldemort's Hocruxes in my possession. I almost felt relieved for once. And Flamel's explanation made a bit of sense too. But, if Dumbledore thought that his giving me one Hocrux would make me less wary, he was quite wrong.

I got up and started to make my way to the Room of Requirement to retrieve the diadem. I wasn't going to let the old men ruin my schedule. I had planned to take the diadem today, and I would see my plans through. Neither Dumbledore's nor Flamel's presents would intervene with my plans.

And I would have gone through with my plans too, had it not been for those darn meddling kids.

You see, just as I was about to exit the common room to go to the Room of Requirement, Isis, Mark, and Alex came running into the Gryffindor common room with snow in their hands. I instinctively backed away. They simply grinned, raised their hands, took aim, and yelled:

"Harry, let's have a snowball fight."

And before I know it, I had snow all over my puzzled face. I heard the three of them giggle and run out of the common room. I set down my satchel in a secure corner table in the common room and rushed after them at top speed, snow still in my hair and on my nose.

And, before I know it, I was chasing them through the halls of Hogwarts.

And before I knew it, I was having a very long snowball fight with Sirius, Jessica, Isis, Mark, and Alex, and a couple of other Hogwart students.

And before I knew it, I was laughing like a child, prophecy all forgotten.

And before I knew it, the day had ended.

0~0-0~0-0~0

And before you know it, this chapter's over. Have a nice day folks!


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